You Can Let Go
by Cendari
Summary: Four times Andy & Sam could have gotten together but didn't. Rating is for explicit sexual themes - don't like don't read. NOMINATED 2012 Rookie's Choice Awards for Best Romance
1. Mercury Retrograde

**AN:** Okey doke, so I have yet to really see any Sam/Andy 5+1's, so I decided to give it a try myself. Anybody familiar with my previous work knows that my specialty tends to be more a "What If?" approach - "What If they did this different?" "What If this hadn't happened?". I can't make any promises as to how long it will take me to finish this (if I ever manage to finish it), but please enjoy in the meantime.

EDIT: Thanks to the somewhat underwhelming response to the last poll, I wound up with a 3-way tie. Now on my profile page is a tie-breaker vote between Signals Crossed, Bullet Proof, and Big Nickel. This is your chance for your wishes to be heard! Which of the 3 episodes should I put a Sam/Andy fix on?

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Rookie Blue, do you seriously think I would have let her get engaged to Lukewarm? For the record: I do not own Rookie Blue, I just try not to throw things at my TV every week. :-)

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><p><strong><em>Five Times Andy &amp; Sam Could Have Gotten Together But Didn't + One They Did<em>**

_"Mercury Retrograde"_

After Andy confesses that she hadn't been scared while bargaining for the life of her training officer and his informant because, as completely powerless as he'd been (not to mention how much delight he seemed to have taken in making her life a misery), she feels safe with him regardless, she doesn't back away when he pulls her closer and leans in, murmuring her last name. Instead, she closes the gap between their lips and quickly finds herself swept away by the sheer amount of sensation that courses through her.

Their kiss starts off tentatively, but rapidly turns incendiary as Andy and the mysterious man of hidden depths start to inspect each others' tonsils. Swarek spins and presses Andy up against the side of his car, boxing her in with his arms on either side of her shoulders. Andy doesn't care and winds herself around him like a vine, running her fingers through his hair and into his scalp.

Sam pulls away from their kiss, and dives into the super-soft skin over her pulse-point that's been tempting him all damned day. She smells fantastic – a combination of jasmine-scented lotion and something that seems to be pure Andy – and now that he's tasted one spot, he wants to test every other spot on her delicious body. For comparison purposes, of course.

The slamming of The Black Penny's back door is like a bucket of cold water being thrown over them as they suddenly remember exactly where they're about to get naked. Andy wets her bee-stung lips and clears a throat gone suddenly dry as she foggily considers her options.

She could walk away right now and pretend this never happened. She knows now that though he might grumble and/or use every trick in his obviously considerable arsenal to convince her to change her mind, Sam Swarek is honorable enough that he would never think of forcing the issue.

Or, she could try to get him out of her system – an all night marathon of sex and fire – that would probably make things difficult and awkward between them afterwards, especially when she gets to the point where she's comfortable enough to start dating. Also, awkwardness between them would probably get in the way of him being her training officer, and after today, payback and hazing aside, Andy knows that she doesn't want anyone but Swarek to be in charge of her training. (She especially wants him to teach her that combo he used to take down that thug while they were looking for Emily.)

But Andy has a feeling that a million nights with Sam Swarek wouldn't be enough to get him out of her system. She also has a sneaking suspicion that being with him could and would ruin her for any other.

Before she can even begin to put what she's thinking into words, he takes things into his own hands by handing her a slip of paper. "Look, that's my phone number and address. If you decide you want to see what this thing between us is, give me a call. If not, no harm, no foul; we can forget this ever happened."

Andy can't stop herself from biting her lip, tasting him and that kiss all over again, and peers up at him through lowered lashes. "What if I don't want to forget?"

He grins, flashing those dimples, and swoops in to steal another kiss. "Then I guess you have a decision to make, don't you, McNally?"

"Andy," she murmurs, already aching for another taste, as she follows him when he pulls away.

"Hmm?" he queries, distracted as she mouths along his jawline, swirling the tip of her tongue in erotic patterns on his skin.

She draws back and smiles at him, eyes dark with desire. "If you're going to kiss me like that, _Officer Swarek__**,**_you'd better start calling me 'Andy'."

He returns her smile and leans in, nuzzling her nose with his, a gesture that suddenly seems a thousand times more intimate than the sharing of bodies that she _knows_ they'll get to sooner or later. "Sam," he replies. "When we're in uniform, we're McNally and Swarek. Out of uniform, however, we're…"

"Naked?" she chimes in with an appreciative glance down his body, proving that she did look yesterday when he put on his impromptu strip show. The fact that she hadn't blushed and run when he dropped his pants had impressed him – the interest in her eyes that she had tried like hell to keep hidden had egged him on.

His slow smile is thoroughly lascivious as the corners of his eyes crinkle with genuine amusement. "You're a wicked tease," he accuses without heat.

"Oh no," she assures quickly, her voice getting lower and huskier, "a tease is someone who doesn't plan to follow through. I have _every_ intention of following through." The hard ridge pressed against her belly palpably twitches at her words and tone, and the smile she flashes is carnal as she raises a slender eyebrow.

"Jesus," he grits out between suddenly clenched teeth.

Andy catches movement out of the corner of her and looks over just in time to see a flash of blonde hair disappear behind another car. She knows that hair, has disliked its bitchy owner for months now, and she comes back to earth with an almost audible thump. "Oh, damn it," she groans, leaning her forehead against her Training Officer's chest as her arms fall from their position around his waist.

She repeatedly bumps her head against his chest as she swears under her breath, ignoring his requests to tell him what's wrong. She's busy thinking of everything that can go wrong, especially if Gail, who has already proven that she doesn't care who she steps on to get ahead if Dov's story about how she swooped in and stole his collar while he was catching his breath is to be believed, decides to take out some of her competition by starting a rumor or reporting them to Boyko. Or both.

Andy looks up to let Sam know, to try to let him down gently, knowing that he'll let her file this under "Temporary Lapse in Sanity" – he won't like it, but he'll do it anyway – when she sees the gentle, knowing look in his eyes. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he's forgiven her for blowing his cover yesterday. He doesn't want to do this as revenge for yesterday, by leading her on and breaking her heart once she's invested in him, in them; he's doing this because he wants to get to know the woman who came after him into the lion's den, even though he'd given her absolutely no reason to do so. The anger and sarcasm that escapes is more frustration at losing eight months of his life than anything else. He doesn't regret helping Emily escape one bit, even if it did cost him his case against Hill.

Her resolve switches – Andy fully realizes that she'd be completely insane to let him get away from her now. She reaches up and pulls him down to meet her lips; the kiss is short, but reassuring.

"If we're going to do this, we need to establish some ground rules," she mumbles against his lips. "First rule: no fooling around at the barn, here, or on duty."

Andy pulls away to see him flash a smile that says that he's betting he can change her mind, but he agrees a moment later, "That goes without saying. Rule two: this is an exclusive arrangement. If either of us wants out to see other people, we let the other one know as soon as possible."

Andy has no problem with that; she's no cheater and the mere thought of having to share him with another woman makes her nauseous. "Agreed." She spares a brief thought for Homicide Luke, who is cute and has been giving her interested glances the past couple of days, but who also doesn't inspire anything near the level of fascination for her that Sam does. "Rule three: this stays completely between us. You don't tell your friends; I don't tell mine."

"And the first person who does let something slip has to pay a penalty," he adds, "to be decided upon by the winner." The look in his eyes tells her that any punishment will be mutually enjoyable regardless of who loses and she responds with an equally wicked smile. "Anything else?"

She doesn't want to ask the next question, but knows she has to if only in the interests of her own health. "Are you clean?"

"Yes, on all counts," he answers without hesitation. Under normal circumstances, he'd consider being insulted - but these aren't normal circumstances by any means. Normal circumstances wouldn't have him coming off an eight-month-long undercover assignment as a small-time drug dealer and addict. Cops working undercover in the world of illegal drugs have been known to get hooked; it was and continues to be an unfortunate hazard of the job. Sam had been lucky in that he'd never had to ingest the drugs he was buying in front of somebody else for the sake of maintaining his cover (well, other than a quick taste to verify the quality, but that's a given).

Add to that the fact that his main dealings with women would have been with prostitutes and other miscellaneous addicts - neither of whom are well known for safe sex practices (or spectacular hygiene in general), and Andy has cause to be concerned. If Sam was being honest, he probably would have lost respect for her if she hadn't asked.

Sam, however, while he hadn't lived the life of a monk before going under, had been able to cope with the extra-long dry spell with the help of Rosy Palm and her five friends and the back room of a rather sleazy video store. Just to be safe, though, he'd paid his favorite techs at the crime lab a visit after cooling off yesterday and bribed them to quietly rush his blood tests through. Sam had gotten the results via voicemail just before coming to the bar tonight.

The radiant smile he gets in return for his instant, honest answer lights up the night and makes his insides quiver. Before he can curb the impulse, Sam leans in and kisses the smile right off her lips. This isn't going to be easy - in fact, he's expecting a hell of a roller-coaster ride - but right now his world has narrowed to just the beautiful, intelligent, recklessly brave woman in front of him, and he can't seem to find it in himself to care otherwise.

Andy's going to lead him on a merry chase, this he knows already; and despite the fact that she's going to do more selflessly courageous stunts that are going to give him premature grey hairs, and that she's going to make him so angry at times that he'll want to strangle her, he knows it's worth it - that she's worth it.

"Do you want to go to your place or mine?" he murmurs into her ear in a tone that makes her tingle deliciously in response.

"Yours," she answers after a beat. Andy knows that, no matter how this relationship goes, she could never regret a single moment spent with this man, but she also has no reason right now to expect that anything would go differently than any other relationship she's been in before. She needs at least the option of an escape should the urge to run get to be too strong to resist.

Sam kisses her one last time, short and sweet, and turns her loose. He's deeply amused when her knees wobble for a split second before she gets her balance back, but he holds back the laugh and waves her back inside to say her good-nights. "Now who's the tease?" she mutters under her breath as she brushes past him. Andy can only jump when he gently swats her ass in silent response.

She returns to the bar, taking her time to avoid raising the suspicion of her friends, but at the end of ten minutes she's finished her scotch, paid for it and its predecessors, and bids the other rookies a cheerful goodnight.

Sam is skulking in the shadows when she re-exits The Black Penny and he takes delight in sneaking up and grabbing her from behind. When Andy reacts to defend herself, he counters her with irritatingly practiced ease and has her pinned against him, her back to his front, in under three seconds. Andy shivers with delight as he takes advantage of their positions to very lightly nuzzle the exposed skin on her neck with lips and nose.

Andy has never met anyone who can affect her like this; nobody else in her past has been able to take her from cold to simmering to hot in just a few seconds and with such minimal effort. Overall, he's barely touched her yet - his hands haven't even gotten beneath her clothes! - but her skin is flushed, her breasts are swollen and tender, her nipples are hard as diamonds, and her panties are already well past soaked.

Whatever else may or may not happen between them, she knows that sex will never, ever be an issue or a problem.

He lets her get a hand free, and she immediately snakes it between their bodies to palm the erection currently straining against his zipper. Andy squeezes just a little, silently marveling at his shape and size, and Sam cuts off his gasp of air by sinking his teeth into her shoulder, stopping her smug chuckle in its tracks. The sharp sting streaks through her, the pain warring with the pleasure of what his hands are doing to her, and she finds herself sucking in oxygen like it's going out of style as her knees start to sag.

Sam sucks gently at the red flesh marking where he bit her in silent apology, thankful that he hadn't broken the skin, and is relieved when she doesn't tense or pull away. He knows that right now he could probably take her right here in the parking lot, or up against the wall of the building, but the woman who literally saved his ass today deserves better than that.

So he forces himself to let her go, and ushers her into the passenger seat of his car (which is a total piece of crap after 8 months of only being driven sporadically by Oliver's wife, and is getting replaced ASAP - something big and manly and shiny, he thinks), hustling around to take his place behind the wheel. He glances over at his passenger, taking in her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and tousled hair in the dim lighting, and thinks that this look rivals her buttoned-up uniform for sheer sexiness.

He can see hickeys already developing on the side of her neck and has plans to add a few more by morning; the thought of any retaliation or punishment she might dole out makes him throb with need and he starts the car with jerky movements.

The console between them means that she isn't able to snuggle up to him, which is probably a good thing considering the way her mere presence screws with his internal equilibrium. Any physical distraction attempts she makes are bound to end with the car wrapped around a telephone pole. Since he also needs his right hand to shift the gears, he can't tease her like he wants to; he knows she'd like to be closer, but he settles for being grateful when she merely wraps her hand possessively around his upper thigh and leaves it there.

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><p>Before Sam knows it, he has Andy pressed against the inside of his front door. He curves his hands under her rear and lifts her up, her legs wrap around his waist as if by reflex, and he anchors her against the door with his pelvis as first his shirt comes off, and then hers.<p>

He's amazed at the silkiness of her skin, how smooth and supple her body is as he wraps his arms around her back, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her head while the other dips into the back of her jeans. She surges up against him as his fingertips brush the cleft between her cheeks, and Sam knows they have to find a bed.

Now.

The hand that has been teasing undiscovered territory regretfully slips back out of her pants and moves down to support her as he backs away from the entrance and goes in distracted search of his bedroom.

Her sports bra disappears somewhere along the way and he has to stop his search for a comfortable horizontal surface for almost ten minutes just to properly pay homage to the perfection laid bare before his very eyes. He nips and licks, sucks and nibbles her breasts until she is writhing against him, gasping for air, and calling to every deity she can think of.

When Andy finally pulls him away from her chest, her breasts are slick and shiny with the evidence of his attentions; Sam's eyes, when he finally looks at her, are so dark she can't see his irises and in this moment, this situation with a man she only met yesterday and otherwise barely knows, she has never felt more desired, nor this powerful.

It's a heady feeling, and Andy ravages his mouth, trying to let him know in the only way she can that it's entirely mutual. She tangles her fingers in his surprisingly soft hair and gently scratches his scalp with her nails, eliciting a slightly surprised moan from Sam as he surges against her.

Sam finally finds his bedroom and drops Andy onto the bed, halting for a minute to take in the sight of her, mussed and flushed, swollen lips and hardened nipples, propped up on her elbows and watching him with that hot look in her eyes that does things to him. His slow smile comes with a laugh of exhilaration, one that she answers, and he can hardly believe that this beautiful creature is here with him, wanting him like he wants her.

He kneels on the bed between her legs and unfastens the button on her jeans, drawing the zipper down tortuously slowly while she watches in silence. In a show of flexibility and control that surprises and tantalizes him, Andy raises her entire lower half in the air, even as her upper body remains propped up on her elbows.

Sam's eyes bulge - she's quite obviously in great shape, but this level of athleticism and flexibility is an enticing surprise. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asks as he hooks his fingers into her waistband and draws her jeans and panties off in one smooth movement, tossing them off to parts unknown.

Andy's eyes twinkle as she laces her fingers behind his neck, pulling him back up and over her. "I may have been a gymnast in a past life."

The piece of information does things to him that should be illegal, he thinks, leaning in for another long, tongue-tangler of a kiss, before he nips, licks, and sucks his way down her front. Sam pays special attention to her raspberry-tipped breasts, perfectly-sized as they are, and she's gasping his name in seconds. "So pretty," he murmurs into her flesh, gently rasping his evening stubble against her sensitive skin.

Her nails are gouging divots into his scalp and shoulders as she writhes beneath him. "Sam, oh god, Sam," she cries, her husky voice music to his ears. He decides it's time to move on and pauses briefly to swirl his tongue around and into her navel, mumbling compliments and praise into her skin all the while.

Sam finally finds himself face-to-face with the gates to paradise - he's barely touched her and she's already soaked and swollen - after a moment to admire her he leans in brushes a feather-light kiss across her clitoris. Andy practically yodels in reply and sucks in a long, shuddering breath. Sam flicks his tongue against that same little bundle of nerves a few times and then settles in for a good, long suckle. She tastes fantastic against his tongue, sweet and spicy with a hint of saltiness and a touch of that jasmine-scented lotion. Yummy.

Andy's back arches and her cries of pleasure are getting shorter and breathier as he rushes her up towards the precipice. Her hands have left his body and instead are clenched so tightly in the sheets beneath her that her knuckles have turned white. Sam finds her entrance with his hand and slips a single finger inside her body - instantly her inner walls clamp down on the invader and he needs to use a little more force to press two fingers into her. He curls them up, searching for the spot that should be just... right...

There. Andy sobs and her hips surge upwards; Sam can feel her muscles tensing and rippling and knows that it won't take long to push her over the edge. He rolls her clit between his teeth in the same moment that he presses against that spot inside her again and she simply explodes.

She cries out on another shuddering breath as every muscle in her body clenches shockingly hard, her heels dig into the mattress as her back arches, and Andy nearly passes out from the sheer force of her climax. Sam busies himself lapping up the physical evidence of her release and he's so turned on right now he could probably pound nails.

He gently and skilfully eases her down from her high, careful not to let her come down too far as she all but purrs her satisfaction. Her chest still heaves with each breath and he watches her breasts wobble with no little appreciation, trying not to give in to the smug grin that threatens to overtake his face.

Her gleeful, breathless laugh fills his ears as Andy tugs him up for a kiss before he has a chance to wipe his face off. She doesn't seem to care that the taste of her is shared between them, and Sam is amazed at his luck in finding this girl all over again.

Without warning, Andy rolls them over so she's on top and flashes him a wicked grin. "My turn." Sam wants what he knows she's planning to do more than he has words to express, but right now he really, _really_ needs to be inside her.

"Next time," he insists with a smile that she returns. Andy positions them so that the head of his cock is just nudging her entrance and starts to lower herself onto him when he remembers what his next concern was: "Protection?"

Her next smile is radiant and she catches his eye as she deliberately sinks down onto him in one slow, smooth glide of pure sensation. They both exhale on a moan at the feel of him stretching her insides to their limits. Andy closes her eyes and drops her chin to her chest as she experimentally uses her inner muscles to squeeze him. His next groan is louder and drawn-out. "We're covered," she assures him eventually.

Andy doesn't waste time telling him that she had decided on an IUD method of birth control after doing her research and realizing that shift work as a cop is too unpredictable to be able to take a pill at the same time every day.

Her musings are forgotten when Sam grips her hips and urges her to move, slowly picking up the pace until she doesn't need his encouragement and he can focus on things other than how damned tight she is, or how good she feels, though he tells her so in a voice gone gravelly with tightly leashed control. He knows this isn't going to last long, but wants to make this as good for her as possible.

His attention moves to other things like her breasts, bouncing and swaying just out of reach of his mouth. So he moves one hand up to tease her nipple, revelling in the way her body squeezes him in reply. His other hand slips between them to the place they are joined and strokes her center with firm pressure, a simple torture that makes her long, easy strokes stall and shudder as she clenches around him. Sam is barely hanging on to his control, just trying to hold out long enough for her orgasm again.

But Andy is no fool, having gained an inkling as to how long it's been for him, and has sussed out his plan which, while noble and bizarrely touching, is not what he needs right now. A barely-remembered belly-dancing class comes in handy as she lowers her upper body until her breasts are barely brushing the sparse hair on his chest and, keeping him buried inside her to the root, rolls her hips in gentle circles.

She kisses him fiercely, attempting to explore every inch of his mouth with her tongue and when he's wide-eyed and speechless she pulls away and nibbles on his earlobe. "Come for me, Sam. I want you to, I want to feel it. Do it, Sam, come for me."

Her hot whisper has done the trick and he flips them back over in a flash. One hard thrust, two, three; he comes undone on the fourth, roaring her name to the ceiling as he empties himself into her body. His hand moves like lightning between them, frantically stroking her clit - the sensation of this beautiful, disciplined man losing all control and exploding deep within her is almost enough to do it for her; the way his gun-callused fingers feel manipulating her bundle of nerves is the clincher and Andy screams her pleasure to the heavens as she joins him in ecstasy.

Sam's vision starts to grey out and he's panting like he had that time he'd been forced to chase a suspect on foot for 12 blocks on the hottest day of the year. When he returns to earth again his face is buried in the smooth curve of Andy's neck and her heartbeat is thudding under his ear. He's fairly sure he's crushing her (even if he did lose some weight while undercover), but she doesn't seem to be complaining and has, in fact, wrapped herself around him in a full-body hug.

His chuckle is born of pure euphoria as he shakily raises himself up on his forearms to look down at her. "Never would have pegged you for a screamer, McNally."

The wickedly carnal smirk that he's already starting to love appears on her bee-stung lips, "I guess I've never had the right inspiration before." Her words are a balm on his slightly battered ego - ever since he'd first discovered the joy to be had in a woman's embrace, he'd prided himself on always ensuring that his partner had her fill before allowing himself the same. Eight long months without or not, to blow his nut after only a few minutes is more than a little humiliating.

His cock is still half-hard, still deep inside her, and she applies a squeeze that makes him hiss. For the first time his face is an open book to her, and she watches his thoughts with fascination. "Sam," she says firmly with another squeeze, "if this gets any better, I am seriously going to have to rethink my standards."

He considers her solemnly, taking in the eyes that are still so dilated they look black, the dark hair spread across his pillow, flushed face and chest, the previously noted bee-stung lips, the rapidly darkening hickeys decorating her neck, shoulders and upper chest, and thinks that she is the most appealing thing he has ever seen. Sam captures her mouth in a long, slow kiss, letting himself sink into this amazing woman - this woman that makes him feel more alive in five minutes than all the dangerous undercover assignments in the world ever could.

This girl, with her Bambi eyes and steely determination, her soft heart and untutored instincts, is one that he could easily find himself falling in love with. Right then and there, he vows that no matter what happens between them, nothing and no one will stop him from turning her into the amazing cop he knows she's capable of becoming.

Sam rolls to the side, slipping out of her with regret, and settles on his back, amazed when Andy follows him and winds up on top of him. She stacks her hands on his chest and rests her chin on them, content to just lie there and watch him until she gets the urge to run. Sam props his head up with a pillow and runs his hand up and down her spine with a touch that is more soothing now than arousing.

Amazingly, the silence is comfortable; neither seems to feel the need to fill the post-coital haze with mindless chatter, and Sam appears to be perfectly content to let her lay on top of him like a full-body blanket. Eventually though, the past few days of non-stop stress and the exhaustion caused by two incredible orgasms catch up to her and Andy lets her eyelids drift shut. She'll just grab an hour or two and be out of there by dawn...

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><p>When Andy awakens in the same position she fell asleep in, she's a bit disoriented. Sunlight is creeping in from behind the blinds on the windows and her mattress is moving; it takes her a second to remember where she is and how she got there. Her eyes snap open and immediately her gaze collides with Sam's.<p>

He is rumpled and watching her with eyes are slowly blinking the leftover sleepiness from them, and Andy thinks that he has never looked so appealing. "Morning," she husks.

The hand that isn't wrapped around her back comes up to cradle her cheek in his large palm and he seems quietly amazed to find her still there. (To be honest, she's more than amazed, and it really should scare her that she actually spent the night in someone else's bed and didn't feel the need to run to safety once.) "Good morning," he replies just as softly.

The bedroom window is open and they can distantly hear the sounds of the city waking up, but here and now they are lost in their own little world - one that contains only the two of them and this feeling of unutterable peace and rightness.

Just when Andy is considering braving morning breath and kissing him, Sam's eyes flash with mischief - she has only a split second to consider that before he shifts under her and then he's pressing inside her, drawing her back down upon him until their pelvises meet.

Andy's face is pressed to his shoulder, she's already panting as her body stretches to accommodate him, clutching at the sheets on either side of his shoulders. "You are seriously evil," she mutters into his skin, and then shudders with sensation when she literally feels the chuckle rumble through his chest.

With his hands on her hips holding her aloft, Sam starts to move - he thrusts and writhes, moving his hips in circles while fully sheathed within her body - and it's not long before she's thundering up and into her first climax of the day.

Sam stills while Andy convulses above him, her inner muscles' rhythmic pulsing is close to driving him crazy. "Okay?" he asks when her eyes finally slit open.

"Never better. More?"

Sam chortles and rolls them over, hooking her knees over his elbows as they go drawing her lower body up into a new and interesting angle. An afterthought has her stuffing a pillow under her hips for support, before Andy wraps her arms around as much of him as she can - which is quite a lot, considering she's almost bent double.

He anchors his hands on either side of her body and rolls his spine, driving into her in one smooth stroke; the slightly different position means the tip of his erection nudges that special place inside her with almost every pass before planting itself within her even deeper than before, and Andy nearly shrieks the first time it happens. Before too long, she's moaning and whimpering, interspersed with chants of his name and calls to god, and the sight and sound and _feel_ of her is almost too much for him.

Sam leans down, never letting his pace falter, and plants his face in the sensitive curve of her neck, deliberately scratching her his with morning growth of whiskers. Andy's giggle gets lost in the drawn-out moan that comes when he rotates his hips in a small circle once he bottoms out.

Andy's skin is on fire, and she can't believe this man - who she's really only known for less than 48 hours - is playing her body like a virtuoso plays a violin. He seems to know exactly what she needs a split second before she does and that instinctive knowledge has her hurtling full-length towards the climax that is just out of reach.

"So close," she whines between heavy pants of air, "so close." He hasn't kissed her yet this morning, hasn't touched her breasts or her clitoris, hasn't done any of the standard foreplay, and yet Andy has never been this turned on in her life. "God, Sam, I'm so close."

Her words go from his ears straight to his cock, and he can feel her sheath start to ripple in anticipation. He's close too, so close he can almost taste it, and his testicles draw up to his body in preparation for the imminent explosion. "I know, sweetheart, I know. Just let go, I'm right behind you." She resists him for a moment, until he barks at her: "Let go, McNally, now!"

His tone brokers no disobedience, and Andy has conditioned herself enough over the past few months to obey that command voice no matter what. She bursts into a full-body orgasm, crying out and sobbing as every nerve in her body comes alive in one giant starburst of sensation. She feels the hot pulses of his release deep within her and convulses again.

"Wow," she says an indeterminate amount of time later when they've recovered somewhat.

Sam lifts himself off her and rolls to the side and Andy can't not roll with him to snuggle into him. "You can say that again."

"Wow," she repeats with a soft giggle.

Sam cracks a grin and presses an affectionate kiss to her forehead. "Agreed." He glances over at his alarm clock and winces. Their morning romp had taken longer than he'd thought and in another five minutes they would officially be running late. With a lot of reluctance he untangles their limbs and rises, finding and pulling on his jeans after a moment's search.

Andy murmurs a token protest when he leaves the bed, but the view is too good to pass up and she sits up so as to get the full picture. Sam looks over at her in time to catch her appreciative ogling and returns the favor by openly looking at her unashamedly bare breasts.

"Go grab a shower," he instructs with a broad grin, gesturing in the direction of his bathroom. "I'm just going to put some coffee on and I'll join you."

"Promise?" Andy clambers to her feet and balances herself on the bed, posing like she's in uniform with her hands on her imaginary utility belt and gives him her best interrogation look. Her nudity makes it less effective than it might have been had she actually been in uniform, but her teasing has the intended effect when she sees Sam's eyes darken with suddenly renewed interest.

"Minx," he accuses without heat, even more reluctantly turning away from the fantastic picture she presents.

Her bright laughter rings in his ears and he hears the thud as her feet hit the floor before she scampers into his ensuite bathroom. Sam makes the fastest pot of coffee ever and hustles to join his young rookie for another quick playtime session before they have to show up at work.

Andy's chortles of delight echo in the bathroom when Sam takes her up against the shower tiles, though she's quickly distracted by what he's doing to her body. Soon, she knows, it will be her turn to transform Sam into a puddle of mush. For now, though, this is way too much fun to quibble over who gets to take the lead.

_And this is only going to get better._

_Wow._

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><p>And that's Part 1. Hope you enjoyed it; please read and review.<p>

_Cen  
><em>


	2. Honor Roll

**Author's Notes:** Thank you all so much for the outpouring following Chapter 1! Every review, favorite, and alert means more than I can say.

EDIT: Thanks to the somewhat underwhelming response to the last poll, I wound up with a 3-way tie. Now on my profile page is a tie-breaker vote between Signals Crossed, Bullet Proof, and Big Nickel. This is your chance for your wishes to be heard! Which of the 3 episodes should I put a Sam/Andy fix on?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rookie Blue. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while *wink wink*

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><p><strong><em>5 Times Andy &amp; Sam Could Have Gotten Together But Didn't + 1 Time They Did<em>**

_"Honor Roll"_

Sam is absolutely not lying in wait for his rookie to get back from wherever she'd gone with Diaz.

But he can't get the look on her face when she'd tried to come to him for help out of his head. Even a quick, reluctant glance into her eyes had shown him that she was stressed - and worried. And a touch scared.

And that freaks him out even more than if she'd been crying. Because if there was one thing he's learned about Andy McNally in the past few months, it's that the woman is damn near fearless. For all that he accuses her of over-thinking things, McNally has quickly gained a reputation around the division for jumping into things head-first, and dealing with any repercussions later.

What exactly has his nosy, headstrong rookie gotten herself into while he was sulking?

When she finally appears, Diaz close behind, Sam's heart sinks. He's been hoping, praying, that she would arrive with a bounce in her step, and that shy, self-satisfied smile (the one that never fails to charm him ever since his first encounter with it), flushed with the knowledge of a job well done.

Instead, she's pale, the corners of her eyes crinkled with stress, and the worry that had been barely veiled earlier has turned into full-blown anxiety. But what turns the blood in his veins to ice is the fear in her eyes.

McNally has been seriously spooked by something or someone, and that instantly puts that person or thing on the top of Sam's list of People and/or Things That Must Be Destroyed. His temper begins to simmer; it hadn't taken the other coppers long to figure out that if you mess with McNally, you'd better make sure you have a will written out, because Sam Swarek can be one stone cold, scary-ass motherfucker when he wants to be.

McNally's gaze lands on Sam and he nearly flinches when her eyes fill with hurt - he'd bungled things badly that morning by refusing to hear her out (and why in God's name had he taken _Callaghan's_ word as gospel?).

She draws even with him, apparently intending to swan past without acknowledging his existence - which he kinda deserves, in all honesty - but he doesn't give her the chance, grasping her nearest arm just above the elbow and towing her along to an unoccupied interrogation observation room. Sam shuts the door in Diaz's face and releases his grip on her arm as she angrily spins to face him, her temper automatically flaring.

"Before you say anything, McNally, I'm a stupid, stubborn asshole, and I'm sorry I blew you off earlier." Like magic, the resentment in her eyes all but vanishes, though a lot of the hurt remains. "I was looking for you when I got in this morning, but Callaghan caught me first; he asked me to make sure you got out of here on time and told me in no uncertain terms that there wasn't going to be any actual fishing going on and that it was all your idea."

He watches with fascination as her facial expressions run the gamut from hurt, to embarrassed, and finally to more than a little outrage. "Two months ago!" she bursts finally. "He told me about it and I said that we should go up there some weekend. You really think that I want to take a three-hour round trip my first day back after I... after I...?" For a fraction of a second, her breath hitches and her chin wobbles and then the Andy he'd first met - the one who stood alone and refused to admit to needing help - is back in charge. And, boy, is she pissed off.

He has the grace to look sheepish. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly," he admits.

"No, you weren't! Instead you tried to beat him to a pulp, and broadcast to the entire division that something's going on! Just because you were feeling sorry for yourself, and in the meantime Chris and I-...!" she cuts herself off as unshed tears sparkle on her lashes. It's been a long, trying day and while Bibby's threat hadn't really scared her, she's worried that the whole thing will get swept under the rug and she and Chris will be thrown under a bus.

"You and Diaz what, McNally?"

His calm, firm tone reassures her, gives her strength; the hurtful, dismissive jackass from that morning is gone, and the Sam who has become her trusted mentor, defender, and friend is back; he's going to pry every single detail out of her, and then he's going to help her figure out what to do about it all. She starts talking - by the time she describes tracking down the brothers to the bar, Sam pulls Chris in to help and locks the door.

After they finish laying everything out on the metaphorical table, Sam scrubs his hands through his hair and down over his face. "Jesus," he mutters, "what a mess."

Chris looks over at Andy uncertainly - being less familiar with Swarek's personality traits and mostly intimidated by him (especially after seeing the way he'd destroyed Detective Callaghan earlier) means that he doesn't know what to expect from the volatile older officer, especially when Swarek's jaw and fists clench so hard his knuckles turn white when Chris details Bibby's final threat against them - and is surprised to see her posture rapidly relaxing as she keeps her gaze on her training officer. Diaz isn't really sure what she sees right now but it reassures him when the aura of tense frustration palpably leaches from her. Granted, he is still more than a little amazed that Swarek believes them without question, except to clarify a detail they might have glossed over.

What kind of a rapport has Andy managed to build up with Swarek that he automatically trusts her word, even when it's about something like this - especially after the blown cover fiasco?

"Here's what we're going to do," Swarek decides, "you two are going gather all your notes together, write up full statements, and give them to me along with the pages from your notebooks." He holds up his hand when Andy's expression takes on a mutinous cast. "And then you're going to forget all about this. I will make sure that the information gets into the right hands, and I want you two to be well clear of the fallout when the shit hits the fan. Understood?"

"But, Sam!" Andy protests.

"McNally, I failed you on several counts today, especially as your Training Officer; let me do this much to make it up to you. You two shouldn't have had to do this alone and if there's going to be a whistle-blower around here, it's damn well going to be me. Diaz?"

"I'll have everything ready for you by tomorrow morning, sir," Chris confirms quietly.

"Good man," Swarek approves. "I need another word with McNally. And remember, not a word about this to anyone."

Chris agrees and flees for cover. He has a feeling about Andy's current mood, and he doesn't want to be anywhere near the impact crater when she explodes.

Sure enough, the moment Diaz leaves them alone, Andy turns to let Sam have it with both barrels. And, once again, Sam cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "McNally, it'll be fine. Okay? When I tell them that I heard rumors of a dirty cop while I was UC and have been spending the past few months quietly looking into it, nobody will think twice. I can say that I had you and Diaz running down a few leads for me today after you told me about finding the kid beaten up while I was stuck in retraining."

"I don't like it, Sam."

The look in his eyes is gentle as he tucks her bangs behind her ear. "You don't have to. The brass is used to me causing trouble, and I've been around long enough and done enough for them that they won't second-guess me coming to them with evidence of a dirty cop like they would you and Diaz. Just trust me, would you?"

"I _do_, Sam," she insists, which is a balm on his battered heart. "You know I do, which is why I'm not going to let you do this alone." She rolls her eyes when he protests. "I know you're going to be taking blame instead of scooping glory, but I wouldn't have made it this far without you, Sam. I can't be the kind of cop Luke is - where you don't see people, just evidence and witnesses - but I come in every day hoping to become just a little more like the kind of cop you are. You, who blew your entire case against Anton Hill, just to get his accountant to safety."

Sam is more touched by her declaration than he has words to express. He's gotten used to pretending that he doesn't notice the hero-worship that she and the other rookies try to hide, but Andy has been far too cagey to come right out and say what she's really thinking until now. "Andy," he says, his tone tinged with quiet amazement.

"I'm selfish, Sam. I don't want anybody else to be my training officer, and letting you do this alone could very well jeopardize that. I'll start stalking you, Sam; I'll make sure you never get a few minutes alone with Frank to blow the whistle."

Sam can't stop the quick smile any more than he can stop breathing. "Promise?" At her blank look his smile widens. "To start stalking me? I'll make sure I never close any of my blinds or windows ever again."

Her jaw drops at his blatant teasing and she punches his shoulder hard even as the tips of her ears turn pink. "You know what I meant!"

"Do I?"

Andy punches him again in the same spot while her cheeks take on the same flush. "Pervert," she accuses mildly.

Sam exaggerates his wince of pain and holds his shoulder. "Ow!" he complains, watching her lips twitch with a reluctant smile. He takes advantage of her improved mood to gently cup her cheek in his hand, "Andy, the worst that will happen to me is I get stuck in an interview room for a day to give a statement and get the ball rolling. There will be grumbling from the masses, but nothing like what would happen if you and Diaz did it."

Andy nods. She has an inkling of what he means, remembering her father's tales of what was done in the past to cops that ratted out other cops. Only those with clout or brass behind them manage to come out relatively unscathed.

The police force is supposed to be a brotherhood, one that protects each other at all costs. But what are they supposed to do when one brother goes bad, turning his back on the rest and the ideals they have sworn to uphold?

It's a conundrum, one Andy has yet to solve, but one thing she knows for certain is that Detective Bibby is a bad, dangerous man who, despite his confidence that nobody will believe a pair of rookies, has been backed into a corner. It doesn't matter that nobody might listen to them - Andy and Chris have evidence of his crimes. Evidence that he would be smart to make sure doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

Apparently Sam has been thinking along the same lines because he fixes her with a basilisk stare, "You and Diaz don't go anywhere alone until Bibby's in custody, understand? Especially you. In fact, I happen to have a spare room that you can hide out in until this blows over."

"I am not afraid of him!" Andy retorts indignantly. "And I don't hide from anybody, least of all him!"

"You should be afraid, because desperate men do desperate things, and you could get caught in his crosshairs if he decides to try to bury this," Sam warns her solemnly. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Her hand moves up to cover his where it still rests against her cheek and her eyes drift shut. "I know you don't, Sam. But if you're worried about me staying alone, I can stay with Luke just as easily as you."

He blinks to give himself time to hide his instinctive reaction to her suggestion, which is hurt and jealousy. "You could, Andy; except how many times have you complained to me that he's barely around? That's some protection job when he falls asleep at his desk more nights than not, still leaving you to fend for yourself. And as you saw earlier, Callaghan's not exactly up-to-date on his dirty fighting skills."

Andy can see his point, remembering the way he'd destroyed Luke during their bout. She also can't bunk with Traci, because that could put Leo at risk; Dov and Chris' place is completely out too, simply because it's stupid to put two potential targets in the same place; and Andy wouldn't approach Gail for a place to stay if her life depended on it.

Which it doesn't. Yet.

"All right," she sighs. "You win." To Sam's credit, the triumph that surges through his body doesn't show on his face, though his eyes glow a bit brighter. "Now, are you going to trust me out of your sight in this building full of cops?"

Her sarcasm is more than evident and Sam retaliates by lightly pinching her hip. "Considering the way you attract trouble, McNally, I'm not sure if I could trust you in a straitjacket."

Andy makes a face at him and moves towards the door. Her hand on the lock, she turns back slightly to look at him. "Are we okay, Sam?"

His chest burns with the force of his unrequited affections, his gut churns with guilt at the way he'd treated her this morning, and his head aches at the sheer magnitude of how badly he misread her and her actions last week. And they still need to talk about what happened, both about the shooting and what happened between them in the aftermath. Sam really just wants to find a bottle of scotch and drown his breaking heart in it, so he gives her a small smile, "We still have to talk," he reminds her, eliciting a wince, "but I think we will."

Her answering smile is equally small but it damn near blinds him with its radiance. She opens the door and exits, leaving Sam to deal with his chaotic emotions alone. There are days that he honestly wonders if he has the strength to accept an opportunity with Guns & Gangs, knowing that he won't be able to fully entrust Andy's well-being to anybody else, and that he will worry about her in his every waking moment despite his best efforts.

Sam whirls around and punches the wall. "Christ, what a mess." With a bit of effort, he puts his best poker face on and leaves the observation room.

* * *

><p>Sam pulls into his driveway and kills the engine. Andy, unusually subdued, sits in the passenger seat with her overnight bag at her feet. Not for the first time, he regrets shooting down her suggestion to stay with Callaghan until the potential threat that Bibby presents has been eliminated.<p>

However, that option is now out if her silence and Callaghan's angry glares mean anything. He had been busy composing himself and so had missed most of the fireworks, but apparently after leaving him in the observation room Andy had pulled Callaghan into his office, locked the doors to prevent eavesdropping, and confessed all, including the distraught almost-sex with her TO.

The fallout was spectacular. When Andy defended herself by pointing out that he'd barely looked in on her before rushing off to go digging for bones, taking her token phrase of "I'm fine" as gospel, Callaghan nearly exploded. Suddenly, Sam's challenging the Detectives to take part in Retraining and the cat-and-mouse game he'd played during their match made too much sense and Luke had connected the dots a lot faster than Sam had given him credit for.

Accusations were flung, names called, and loyalty called into question, but the end result was the same: when he nastily insinuated that she had been two-timing him and Swarek the entire time, Andy laid Callaghan out with a vicious left cross (one that had her audience of coworkers cheering, cat-calling and exchanging money), and she walked out of the office a single woman.

So far, the pros are outweighing the cons, as far as Sam is concerned. Of course, he is plotting an appropriate level of vengeance (and has every intention of soliciting Oliver's help - it's their duty as Training Officers to stick up for their rookies, after all - and it'll give the guy something to do while stuck in the hell of daytime television).

"That was a hell of punch you laid on Callaghan," he finally offers admiringly. Apparently she'd paid attention while Nash trained for Fite Night.

There is a beat of silence before he sees the corners of her lips turn up.

"Andy," Sam says quietly, "if he can't understand that you were extremely distressed over your first shooting, and only came to see me because he was unavailable, he doesn't deserve you."

"Not only because he was unavailable," she corrects after an even longer pause. "Even if he had stuck around, I probably would have waited until he fell asleep and then come over anyway."

Sam isn't sure he really wants to have this conversation in his truck, but since she is finally talking he's loath to stop her. "Why, Andy? Why me?"

Her lashes sparkle with unshed tears when she finally looks at him. "Because I knew you would make me feel better. That you could keep the darkness away, even if only for a little while. I didn't come here intending to jump you, Sam, I promise. I just... You opened the door and you were so concerned, and Luke just wasn't, and I felt so dead inside... I just wanted to feel alive again."

Sam closes his eyes against her pain. She isn't the first person to try to drown the pain of death in sex, the ultimate affirmation of life, nor will she be the last. He should have stopped her as soon as he realized what she was doing - should have tried to teach her other, more constructive ways of dealing - but she'd essentially skunked him, and, in doing so, caused his higher brain function to simply shut down. "I'm sorry, Andy. I should have stopped us long before we made it to the bedroom; that's all on me. But why did you run? Why did you go back to him after all that?"

Her mouth twists and Sam recognizes the expression as guilt and regret. "If it had just been the power, I probably would have stayed. But while you were turning things off, Luke called, and I woke up.

"I was damned no matter what I did. As great as it would have been, having sex with you that night would have changed a lot of things between us, some probably not for the better. It also would have made me a cheater, and I have never deliberately or knowingly cheated on anyone or anything," Andy declares.

Sam acknowledges that truth; Andy's unfailing honesty is one of her most endearing but frustrating qualities. "And you went back to him because?"

"Because you scare the living hell out of me," she replies with a rueful laugh. "Even when I was drowning, you made me feel more alive with a few kisses than I had in months of regular sex with Luke. Acknowledging that little detail out loud meant having to admit that I deliberately got involved with Luke because I knew I wouldn't be able to let him all the way in, that he wouldn't be able to break my heart when the end came."

Sam raises the console between them and slides closer, taking her left hand in his right, trying to let her know without words that he's there for her.

"But you," she says, giving him a sideways glance through her lashes, "you wouldn't settle for anything less than all of me. You see everything - good, bad, strengths, flaws, everything; a relationship with you would be an all or nothing deal, and I'd do it. I could let myself get so wrapped up that I wouldn't know where I end and you begin, and when you finally decided that you'd had enough of me and my emotional baggage and left it would kill me."

Sam lifts his free hand and cups her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that escapes. He knows that she won't believe all the assurances in the world that he won't ever get tired of her. Experience has taught her that everybody leaves sooner or later - starting with her mother walking out and her father trying to find absolution at the bottom of a bottle - and it's all just a matter of time. Not long after her family abandoned her, Andy had vowed that she would never be the one left behind to pick up the pieces again.

And so, in every relationship since, once she starts feeling the inklings of something more, something stronger, than the initial attraction, Andy bolts. If the guy is stubborn enough to follow her, she pushes and pushes and pushes until he finally has enough and lets her run.

But Andy's feet are getting tired; Callaghan is the first time she consciously tried to get past it. He was supposed to be her healthy, adult relationship that would teach her how to function in real-world relationships with real grown-ups (instead of the callow boys she had previously associated with).

Sam sighs, considering his words carefully - if he says this wrong she might bolt on him again, and his heart will shatter into a million tiny pieces. "I can't promise you I'll never leave," he says quietly, "not in this job, when I could piss off the wrong person, or eat a bullet, or get run over by someone who doesn't want a ticket." She stiffens under his hands, but Sam keeps stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I can promise you that I will fight until my very last breath, with everything in me, to keep coming home. I can promise that if you start feeling trapped, all you have to do is talk to me. I can promise you that if you try to run, I'll handcuff you to my bed until that need goes away. Can you accept those promises, Andy?"

She draws in a slow, shuddering breath, and Sam tries to prepare himself to follow her when she bolts. One second he's looking at her, the next she's launched herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his torso so tightly the back of his mind is making unflattering comparisons to boa constrictors. Andy is mumbling something into his neck and Sam strains to hear what she is saying even as he dips his head to rest on top of hers and hugs her even more tightly to him.

The tears she had earlier refused to let fall now start to leak into his shirt and skin but Sam is beyond caring when he finally understands what she's saying: "Yes" repeated over and over. Eventually she stops her mantra and hiccups for several moments before she sobs and proceeds to cry her heart out for the first time since waking up a week before her 11th birthday to discover her mother had disappeared into the night.

Andy cries for her mother, who had been cheating on her dad but hadn't gotten the guts to leave him before she got pregnant with her lover's child.

She cries for her father, who had started drinking in the aftermath of his wife's abandonment of them, and kept drinking when his grief started to negatively affect his work. And who kept drinking even after that, because it was easier to do so than own up to his failings.

But most of all, Andy cries for herself. For the little girl that had been forced to grow up and fend for herself at such a young age; for the young woman that desperately needed her mother's touch and advice, and her father's unwavering protection; for the fear of abandonment and rejection that had driven her into relationships that she knew wouldn't last; for being unable to stop the vicious cycle.

Andy cries over the man she had killed - for the loss of the last of her innocence - and for Luke, with whom she has honestly tried to make things work, even though she couldn't seem to get her training officer's smile out of her head.

And she cries for Sam, who has managed to put his feelings for her aside, even as he consistently goes the extra mile in helping her become the cop she is meant to be (she doesn't count earlier that day), and has listened patiently while she talked about Luke, never once letting on that it bothers him or that her continuing, deliberate obliviousness is tearing his heart to pieces.

Sam holds her tightly, rubbing her back, and encourages her to to just let it out. He knows better than most how dangerous it is to just hold everything in, to shove all the bad things into a box and never actually deal with it - his parents had dragged Sarah to a psychologist after her attack, despite her protests, and after several months of no progress they agreed to let her stop. Instead of trying to deal with it on her own, Sarah had attempted to pretend it never even happened, despite being terrified of her own shadow. Even with anti-anxiety medication, the resultant panic attacks had been epic.

By the time she starts to calm down, sniffling and hiccuping all the while, Sam is even more deeply in love with her, if that's even possible. Andy snuffles again and draws away, turning pink with embarrassment when she takes in the damage to his shirt. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, turning her face away to wipe at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Hey." Sam catches her chin in his hand and turns her back to look into her eyes. "Don't ever be sorry for showing me your emotions. They're as much a part of you as that left cross, and I'm honored that you trust me enough to share them with me."

Her smile is slow and limited to her eyes but it lights up the night and turns his insides to mush. She cups his cheek, evening stubble and all, and caresses his cheekbone with her thumb. "I do, you know. I don't know how you did it, but one day I took a peek inside my heart and there you were, pretending you'd been there all along." Andy leans in and softly kisses his other cheek. "There's a patient, gentle, kind," she says, pressing equally light kisses across his face with each compliment, "sweetheart with a teacher's soul hiding under all that bad-boy bravado and grouchiness. You're a good man, Sam Swarek."

Despite his best intentions, a man can only take so much torture; his gruff retort about needing to keep his rep intact is lost as Sam turns his head to capture Andy's lips in a kiss that burns with intensity. He lingers for a moment and then breaks away with a gasp that she echoes. "I'm sorry; I didn't intend to do that," he admits, deliberately not looking at her.

He thanks god for her inherent practicality a second later when she doesn't take offence. Instead, Andy turns his face back to hers so he can see the serene smile taking up residence on her expression. She reaches up and brushes his mouth with a butterfly's caress and sits back again, still comfortably secure in his embrace. "Don't be. I'm not."

Whatever Sam is going to say next gets interrupted by the monster yawn that escapes Andy, who is totally exhausted by the long, emotionally trying day. He chuckles indulgently instead and moves her back into her own seat before he slides into the driver's seat to remove his keys from the ignition before opening his door. Andy gathers her things and slips out the other side, leaning against the door once she closes it behind her.

Sam rounds the hood and takes in the sight of her - one minute she's a seductive temptress, the next an adorably sleepy little girl as she rubs her eyes with a fist. Not normally especially fond of physical contact, he can't resist taking her bag as he presses a fond kiss to her temple and wraps his arm around her for support. "Come on, you daredevil, let's get you into a bed, shall we?"

Given how drained she is, Sam decides to save the tour for the morning - he shows her to the spare room, and then to the bathroom where she changes and scrubs the day off her face while he scrambles to put sheets on the bed.

Andy appears in the doorway while he's fluffing pillows, dressed in only a pair of gym shorts and a tank top; her face has been cleansed of all makeup, her hair pulled back into a loose braid, and Sam thinks that she has never looked more appealing than she does right now. He pulls the covers back and ushers her into bed, tucks her in, and gently combs a few loose strands of hair away from her face as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Get some sleep," Sam murmurs.

Andy's fighting to keep her eyes open but she finds enough energy to ask him to stay until she falls asleep. She hooks her fingers into his sleeve and tugs him down towards her so he'll get her unspoken point, even as she shifts backwards so he has room to lie down.

Right now, Andy could ask for his heart on a platter and he would probably ask if she wanted it on a silver platter or a gold one, so Sam lays down next to her and comes to rest on his side, facing her and sharing her pillow. She shifts just a bit closer so as to be fully enveloped in the body heat the human-shaped furnace beside her is giving off. "Thank you, Sam - for everything."

He presses a tender kiss to her forehead and trails his lips down to lightly peck the tip of her nose, getting a sleepy giggle for his efforts. "Good night, Andy."

She yawns in his face and snuggles deeper into the plush pillow he found for her; she's warm and safe in his house, (technically) in his bed, surrounded by the scent and the heat of him, and despite the stress from today and the inevitable fallout, Andy has never been so content. Between one breath and the next, she's asleep.

Once he's sure she's out, Sam reluctantly peels himself away from her side and finds his own bed, which now feels impossibly large and empty without the larger-than-life woman sleeping down the hall.

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep.

* * *

><p>At some point Sam swims into wakefulness with the distinct sensation of being watched. Groggy, he peels his eyelids open far enough to make out the familiar female shape silhouetted in his doorway. "Andy? What's wrong?"<p>

She starts, suddenly guilty at waking him up and getting caught, and falters but Sam waves her in; Andy moves forward on light feet, trying hard not to remember what happened the last time she was in here, and crouches beside the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you," she murmurs.

"S' fine," he replies around a yawn. "What's up?"

If she were standing, Andy probably would have played with her hair and shuffled her feet uncomfortably - as it is, her hands come up to fiddle with the tail of her braid, now hanging over her shoulder. "I had a nightmare," she explains haltingly, "that it was you I shot last week. I just-... I just needed to make sure you're really here and okay."

Sam doesn't bother telling her about all the times he dreamed about her escapades - only in the nightmares she doesn't escape and he's usually trapped and helpless to stop it. For the last week, it's mostly been that pedophile standing over her bullet-riddled body in the basement of the rec centre instead of the other way around.

Needless to say, he understands and flips open the covers on the other side of the bed in unspoken invitation. Andy scurries around and dives in next to him – the way she's shivering as she pulls the blankets over her and cuddles in next to him tells Sam that this isn't the first nightmare she's had about this and that she resisted asking for comfort for longer than he would like.

Sam rolls over and fits them together, his back to her front, and curls protectively around her, wrapping his arm around her waist and splaying his hand over her belly. Between the solid presence of him behind around her, the heat of his body, and largely nonsense phrases he's rumbling in her ear, Andy quickly relaxes and settles herself against him with a long exhalation.

The kiss he presses to her bare shoulder is soothing, surprisingly enough, reassuring her more than words ever could that he's not going anywhere. "Go to sleep, Andy."

She sleepily grumbles something about him not being the boss of her even as she can feel her body start to obey. Sam gently shushes her and replies with another nuzzle and kiss to her shoulder. Andy finally really and truly feels safe for the first time in recent memory and she drifts off, wrapped securely in his arms.

* * *

><p>Andy wakes not long after the sun rises, bathing Sam's room in a warm golden glow. They're still in the same position they fell asleep in, spooned together, and she can feel his even breaths waft across her neck and shoulder, causing an involuntary shiver.<p>

Over the course of the night, Sam's hand has moved up her ribcage far enough that his fingertips are just barely skimming the bottom of her breast and there's something poking her in her back...

Andy's eyes get wide – since she lost her virginity, the only morning-after she's had is the kind with the awkward conversation when the person whose bed she had abandoned tracks her down. She's heard about this "morning-wood" phenomenon, but has never been in the position to experience one first-hand.

She can't stop herself from easing from Sam's grip and turning over to peer under the covers, a nearly silent giggle escaping her at the sight of the tented fabric of his shorts. She's just considering reaching for an exploratory manual examination when male hand grabs the covers from her, forcing them down even as Sam rolls onto his stomach. "Sorry," he mutters, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Andy nearly gapes with astonishment as she watches him. Is the cool, calm, completely unflappable Sam Swarek _blushing_? His cheeks turn pink too as he looks back at her, trying to keep a nonchalant expression on his face even as the proof of his embarrassment spreads further.

She's so charmed and intrigued that she forgets to laugh at him; what she really wants to do right now is offer to take care of the problem for him, but that path leads to uncharted territory. Andy has never been in this position before: she's never really taken the time to get to know somebody as well as she's starting to know Sam before falling into bed with them, and she's uncertain of the path she should take.

After the way he responded to her when she jumped him last week, Andy knows that attraction isn't a problem on either side, but how to tell him what she wants without having to put herself out there for rejection?

Sam reads the indecision on her face and takes the opportunity to disappear into his ensuite bathroom, leaving her to her thoughts. Andy pouts when he vanishes, but realizes that overall it's for the best. Now that she's not seeing somebody else, they have all the time in the world to explore this new dynamic in their relationship.

"Andy, what time is it?" he calls through the closed bathroom door.

She looks around and finds an alarm clock, surprised to see just how early it is compared to how refreshed she feels. "Just after five," she replies, her tone silently asking "why?".

"Get dressed and we'll go for a run," he suggests back. She obviously likes the idea because his room is devoid of her presence by the time he emerges. Sam throws on a loose t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants, grabbing a well-worn academy sweatshirt as an afterthought.

Andy is waiting for him in the front hall, nearly bouncing with anticipation and excess energy. Her wardrobe nearly matches his, except her sweatshirt is tied around her waist and is a lot newer than his is. Sam pauses long enough to grab his keys, wallet and cell phone from the small table by the door, and bends to pull on his running shoes, nearly jerking upright with surprise when Andy pats his ass lightly as she brushes past him out the door.

She's already stretching on his lawn by the time he locks up, and Sam is momentarily distracted by the play of sunlight on skin when she raises her arms above her head and her shirt rides up. He deliberately does not think about the time not that long ago when he saw her without a shirt at all.

She looks up and very carefully does not smirk when she notices his stupefaction. "Are you coming, slow poke?"

_Not yet_. The lascivious thought wakes Sam up and he shakes the cobwebs from his brain as he lightly descends his front steps to join her in the yard. They stretch for a few minutes more before taking off in a slow jog down the sidewalk, effortlessly matching strides. They gauge each other's ability and then Andy throws down the gauntlet by speeding up.

She hears Sam laugh, and then he's right beside her again, easily keeping up with the increased pace. The first mile flies by and then it's Sam's turn to jack up the speed as he leads her to a well-hidden jogging path that wends around a large park.

Andy gives a dismissive "ha!" and rapidly catches up. Their breath is coming faster now, though still not nearly labored, and they fall into a companionable silence, still matching strides.

By the time they turn back down Sam's street, they are neck-and-neck in an all-out sprint down the block. At the last minute, Sam pulls ahead and slaps his hand to the side of his truck a split second before Andy can. Panting with exertion, he puts his hands on his head and walks out a stitch in his side as Andy simply locates the softest-looking patch of grass she can find and collapses on her back, arms and legs akimbo, as she tries to catch her breath.

Sam performs a few cursory stretches to keep his muscles from cramping up, and then checks the time. He nudges her foot with his own, chuckling at the way she deliberately goes completely limp, "Come on, lazybones, we're running a bit late."

Andy sits up with more than a little reluctance and an exaggerated groan, and pouts at him. "Do we have to go to work?" she asks, holding her hands out to be helped up.

Sam complies with her silent request and tows her into the house without bothering to respond. He fetches them each a bottle of water from the fridge and downs half of his in one swallow; Andy pauses while she watches the muscles of his throat work. When a drop of water escapes and rolls down his front, she swallows hard against the desire to follow its path with her tongue and busies herself with her own water.

By the time she finishes, Sam has already started a pot of coffee and shows her where he keeps the spare towels; Andy barely restrains the urge to offer to conserve water and towels and limits herself to watching him walk away to his own bathroom and shower.

Not long after he vanishes into his bedroom, Andy hears the water start up and has to try to put aside the image of him naked and wet. Those broad shoulders and strong arms, the muscled chest and stomach (that have only gained more definition since the first time she saw them), that dusting of hair across his pectorals and down his belly, trim hips, runner's legs...

Andy comes back to herself to find the fingers of one hand teasing a newly hardened nipple and her panties growing damp, and makes a split-second decision to stop over-thinking things and just go with her gut.

She leaves a trail of clothes from the kitchen to his bathroom door, and pauses for a second to steel her nerves before opening it. The door is already cracked open a bit, so she doesn't have to worry about him hearing it, and steam is starting to roll out in waves.

She opens the door wide enough to peer in and freezes: blurry behind the glass of the shower door is a familiar figure, one hand braced above his head on the wall, and the other is...

_Holy crap_.

Andy hears a moan that sounds an awful lot like her name and her belly clenches as a rush of lubrication appears between her thighs. Another groan breaks her out of her reverie and she's moving towards the shower before she has time to think about it.

Sam freezes when he feel a rush of cold air and then two slender arms are circling around his waist, one coming to rest on his stomach, and the left moving to join his own hand on his cock. There's a soft kiss on the back of his neck before an all-too-familiar voice is murmuring in his ear, "Let me take care of that for you."

Her hand moves tortuously slowly, stroking him from base to tip, dislodging his hand, and ends with a firm pass of her thumb over the head. He exhales through his teeth at the sensation and lets his head fall back; she gets his earlobe between her lips and worries it in her teeth, sucking it with just enough pressure to make him cry out her name while her hand keeps doing evil things between his legs.

"Were you thinking of me just now? While you were doing this?" she asks in a tone so low and husky it makes him twitch. The hand on his stomach drags down the trail of hair and moves below to cup his sac. "Were you, Sam?"

His affirmation rumbles through his chest like it's being dragged out of him and he can suddenly feel the points of her nipples pressing into his back. His free hand comes back to cup her flank and pull her body more tightly against his, and she suddenly tightens her grip around him, her hand never slowing. Her right hand gently rolls the globes of his testicles within their sac as if testing their weight.

"Talk to me, Sam," she instructs, her voice so low he can barely hear her over the spray of water, "tell me what you want."

Her words are galvanizing and Sam pulls her hands away from his body with no little regret before he whirls around and pins her against the shower wall, sealing his mouth over hers. "You," he breathes when they separate. "Just you."

Her smile is radiant and her eyes light up and she leans in for another kiss. "Good," she murmurs against his lips, "because I want you, too."

Sam wraps his arms around her and lifts her with an ease that takes her breath away. Andy's legs twine around his waist as he reaches between them and positions himself, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock. "Are you sure, Andy? If we do this there's no going back."

She uses what little leverage she has to sink down a little, stopping when only the broad head of his erection is inside her, and quirks an eyebrow at him. "How's that for an answer?"

Sam captures her lips for another breath-stealing, tongue-tangling, soul-melter of a kiss as he lowers her body onto him, filling her completely. They break apart with twin moans when he is barely but fully sheathed - she's hot and tight, her inner muscles rippling as they struggle to accommodate this long, thick invader. Gasping, Andy seals her lips over his pulse point and suckles hard, jolting when he twitches deep inside her.

"Sam?" she whines, unsure of how much more she can take. She's so full she can feel every line and ridge of his magnificent shaft, but right now she just needs him to _move_.

He understands and slowly pulls out until he almost leaves her completely, and then surges back inside, making her yodel as her head falls back against the tiles, baring her throat to his eager gaze. Sam sets up a smooth, driving rhythm as he kisses and sucks his way down her neck and chest.

Andy is whimpering by the time he closes his lips around one raspberry-colored nipple, her nails digging into his shoulders and back. He frees one hand and moves it between them to the place they are joined, coming to rest on her lower belly as his thumb gently but firmly rubs her clitoris.

Andy keens his name, her sheath tightening around him; he feels a corresponding clenching in his lower back and abandons his pursuit of her breasts to kiss her breathlessly. He breaks away and lowers his lips to her ear, rumbling praises and compliments on how pretty she is, how hot and tight and wet, how perfect she is, how good she feels around him.

At the same time Sam tightly pinches that bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger, and she plummets over the precipice. Andy cries out again, repeating his name amidst calls to God, her whole body shuddering around him.

The sight is so fantastic Sam wants to watch her do it again. He never lets up his thrusting into her, even as she writhes and whimpers, and keeps stroking that little bundle of nerves, driving her ever higher. "Again," he orders when she moans his name. His actions keep her on the edge, constantly shaking with little climaxes as he revs her up for a big finale. His testicles draw in close to his body in preparation for the coming explosion and Sam knows he doesn't have a lot of time left.

Sam bottoms out inside her at the same time that he presses down on her clit, hard, and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. Andy screams as she erupts into a full-body orgasm, one that seems to go on forever, those fantastic inner muscles of hers rippling and convulsing, milking him, and Sam obliges with a shout. Feeling the hot pulses of his release deep in her belly rockets Andy into another mini-orgasm.

When it's all over, Andy, completely wrung out and totally sated, drapes her arms limply over Sam's back and buries her face in the curve of his neck, listening to his thundering heartbeat as it gradually slows and calms. Sam, not feeling too steady himself, shuffles over to the built-in ledge and sits, carefully arranging Andy's limbs.

He smooths his hands up and down her sides and back, intending to soothe rather than arouse. "Gonna live?"

There's a long pause during which he starts to think that she might have actually fallen asleep before Andy stirs a little, settling herself more comfortably before going limp again. "Andy's not in right now," she slurs against his neck, "having just been sexed into next month. Please try back again next year." A sleepy whimper escapes when her pillow shakes with suppressed laughter.

"Come on," he says with a pat to her bottom, "we're going to be late if we don't get moving."

"Don't wanna."

Sam rises and gently sets her down, silently agreeing with her disappointed protest when his softened member slips out of her, seating her back on the ledge in deference to her still wobbly knees. He grabs the shower-head, thankfully still blasting hot water, from its holder and directs the spray towards her down-turned head, wetting her hair. Then he reaches for his shampoo and washes her hair, inwardly marveling at the silken texture while being careful to not let any of the suds get into her eyes.

Finally, thankful that he prefers general body wash and not some stuff that reeks of cologne, he bathes her, washing away the evidence of their prior activities. _Well,_ he reconsiders with an internal smile, eyeing the darkening hickeys dotting her neck and shoulders and feeling the claw marks she left on his back, _maybe not all the evidence_.

By the time he finishes rinsing, Andy has started the road back to full awareness and is watching him with a soft smile on her face and a serene look in her eyes. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead and one to the tip of his nose; Sam tilts his head to receive the next kiss and Andy happily obliges, kissing him sweetly and lingeringly.

He knows they're going to be late, but right now they're protected from the outside world by the cocoon of steam and he never wants to leave.

They still have to deal with the fact that rookies and Training Officers aren't allowed to get involved; there's also the tiny detail that she's been broken up with her boyfriend for less than a day; Bibby and his threats are hanging over their heads like a sword about to drop.

Andy pulls back and searches his eyes for something - what, he doesn't know - but she evidently finds what she's looking for because she leans in close again. "I love you," she murmurs.

And Sam doesn't care about any of that other stuff because he finally got the woman he loves, only to find out that she loves him too. "That's very good news," he replies as softly, meeting her eyes. For the first time ever, he lets her completely in, drops all his walls, and allows her to see into his heart. "I was beginning to think I was alone in the love department."

Andy flows off the ledge and into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and touching their foreheads together. "I'm sorry I was so blind and stubborn."

"You're forgiven." Sam also really doesn't want to know what time it is, because he's fairly sure that they're almost out of time. "We really have to get moving." With extreme reluctance, Andy acquiesces and leaves Sam to finish his shower alone with one last kiss.

Ten minutes later, they're in his truck heading for the barn. Andy's hair is wet and she doesn't have any makeup on, but she's never been happier. Sam has flipped down the centre seat to reveal a cup-holder console and their intertwined hands rest on top. For perhaps the first time ever, things between them are calm and content - there's nothing that needs to be said, nothing that needs to be done. Well, for now, anyway.

After all, they finally have a healthy outlet for all that sexual tension and a lot of catching up to do.

Sam catches Andy's knowing smile out of the corner of his eye and feels a corresponding tingle rush down his spine. He doesn't know exactly what she's thinking, though he has a pretty good idea judging by that smile, and he's fairly sure that he is definitely going to enjoy the results.

After all, they have _a lot_ of catching up to do.

**Fin.**

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><p>That's all for now, folks! Please review, each one makes me a better author.<p>

Cen


	3. Hot & Bothered

**Author's Note:** All righty, a few of you have been asking questions about the format of this. Each chapter is stand-alone, the first 5 based on the concept of each one being a way that Andy & Sam could have gotten together throughout Season 1, but obviously didn't. The 6th entry, is the +1, wherein it's the time that they actually do get together (can almost guarantee it won't follow canon, if the previews are any indication, but that's way it's called fiction). =D

For an excellent example, see "Who Gives a Starship to a 25 Year Old" by McKown, which is based on the 2009 Star Trek movie, and revolves around the concept of 5 times it sucked to be the youngest crew in Starfleet, 1 time they got away with it (my favorite chapter), and 1 time it saved their lives, and is absolutely hysterical.

Also, with the publication of "All of Your Life" last week I have now surpassed 100,000 words archived!

EDIT: Thanks to the somewhat underwhelming response to the last poll, I wound up with a 3-way tie. Now on my profile page is a tie-breaker vote between Signals Crossed, Bullet Proof, and Big Nickel. This is your chance for your wishes to be heard! Which of the 3 episodes should I put a Sam/Andy fix on?

And now, on with the show!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rookie Blue - if I did Lukewarm (The King of Douchebag Hypocrites) would have been tarred and feathered in the middle of the precinct instead of Andy trying to cover for him.

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><p><em><strong>5 Times Andy &amp; Sam Could Have Gotten Together But Didn't + 1 Time They Actually Did<strong>_

_"Hot & Bothered"_

More than anything, Sam wishes that he hadn't fobbed Andy off on Oliver because he hadn't wanted to brave the heat again. As far as he's concerned, that's where everything started to go downhill. If only…

Now, because of that one decision, his best friend is in the hospital and his rookie was alone when she faced off with a serial pedophile and had been forced to do something every cop wishes they didn't.

She's taken a life and now has to find a way to get past it. Sure, there's the mandatory counseling sessions with the department shrink to look forward to, but otherwise she'll have an entire week to do nothing but second-guess herself and relive those few minutes over and over again, trying to figure out if there was a way to restrain the evil bastard without having to resort to using her gun.

There wasn't, Sam knows, but it won't stop her from trying. He'd done it, too, in the past. And if Callaghan is any kind of smart, he won't leave Andy's side for a second, if only to be there to soothe the nightmares that are sure to come.

Sam doesn't need beer to drown out the demons – he goes straight for the liquor cabinet and spends a few minutes debating as to whether today was a Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, or Jose Cuervo kind of day. Just as he reaches for the tequila there's a frantic knock on the door. His brow creases with confusion as he goes to answer it; he's not expecting anybody, so who could it be?

Andy stands on his front steps, very nearly twitchy with anxiety. "Hey," she says, not quite meeting his eyes and in the dim lighting he can see that hers are red-rimmed.

"Hey."

"Are you alone?"

The question comes out of left-field and Sam is so caught off-guard that he glances back into the depths of his house, inwardly debating if the named liquor counts, "Yeah." He turns back to her, notes her trembling hands, uneven breaths, the raspy voice that comes from hours of crying your heart out, dilated pupils, and her inability to keep still. "You wanna talk?"

She bites her lip, considering his question and her response, and he has a split second to register the shift in her eyes before her hand is on his sternum, pushing him back into the house. "No."

Then her lips are on his and he is so surprised that his brain shuts down. By the time he comes back to himself, he finds that his body has responded to her anyway and is kissing her back like she's air to a drowning man. He can taste the saltiness of dried tears on her lips and the realization is sobering.

She's not here because she finally saw the light. She's here because she's drowning and Callaghan is missing in action. She's not kissing him because she wants him like he wants her. She's kissing him because she needs to feel alive (and there's no affirmation of life more powerful than sex) and he just happens to be the most convenient male body.

The realization hurts, more than he thought possible, and it's enough to break him out of the haze of hormones that have taken over his body. "Andy," he says, breaking away from her admittedly luscious mouth.

She is undeterred, however, and sucks her way across his jaw and down his neck.

"McNally!" he barks firmly, using his hands to set her away from him and backs away. It seems to work because the film of lust clears from her eyes, quickly replaced with horror and embarrassment.

"Oh, my god," she utters, clapping her hands over her mouth. "Sam, I-… I swear didn't mean to-…" Without warning, she wraps her arms around herself and bursts into tears.

"Aw, hell," Sam mutters under his breath – female tears have the most insidious tendency to unnerve him – and he moves to take her in his arms. "It'll be okay, Andy; it's okay," he repeats directly into her ear, echoing his words from earlier, and rocking her gently to and fro.

Gradually her tense posture relaxes, and then her arms are winding around his waist as she buries her face in his neck. "I'm so sorry," she eventually whispers into his skin.

"I know," he replies as his hold on her tightens, "it's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" she cries, wriggling free. Suddenly, and inexplicably, she's more angry with him than ever before and she shoves herself away from him as if he's contaminated. "It'll never be okay again!"

It's been less than five minutes since she showed up on his doorstep and so far he's counted three mood changes. Her emotions are swinging wildly out of control and it's more than a little worrisome from someone who barely lets on what she's really thinking on a good day. "Andy," Sam says reasonably, "it's okay."

"Don't lie to me!" she snarls. "And don't patronize me either!"

He definitely needs some liquid courage if he's going to deal with her like this and today has turned into a Cuervo kind of day without question. Sam leads Andy into the living room and seats her on the couch before he grabs the bottle of tequila and a pair of shot glasses, completely forgoing the salt and limes. He slams the glasses down on the coffee table, pours them each a shot and picks up one as he hands Andy the other. "Bottoms up," he instructs.

Andy makes a face, but does so anyway, gasping as the potent liquor burns down to her stomach. Sam immediately pours another, which she downs without further protest. "Feeling better?" he asks, voice raspy.

Andy breathes in deeply, and exhales just as heavily; the tequila is warming her from the inside out, but the rage is slowly fading and leaves her feeling hollow in its wake. "Not really."

"Up to talking yet?"

Andy huffs a humorless laugh, "Not really."

"Try." It's not a question.

"I- I just-... I feel so empty, Sam," she says haltingly. "Like I'll never be whole again."

Sam sits on the coffee table directly in front of her - he doesn't think he wants to know the answer to his next question, but he has to know. "Where's Luke, Andy?"

Her next laugh is equally devoid of actual humor. "Where else? He's at the Rec Centre, digging for bones. You know, 'cause it's such a huge case and all."

Sam sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. _That idiot_. He pours them each a last shot - because right now the last thing he needs to teach Andy is that drowning this kind of pain in booze will work - and sets the bottle aside. "I'm sorry, Andy."

"Yeah, me too." Despite the dim lighting, peering into her eyes tells Sam all he needs to know about her mental state: the tequila may be loosening her tongue, but her emotional walls are higher than ever and as long as they're up she'll never allow herself to properly grieve, accept it, and move on.

He knows the best way to do so is to work her into physical exhaustion, so she's too tired to keep her shields up, but there aren't too many methods to do so and still keep her intact. She's too agitated to run and would probably wind up hurting herself, same goes for setting her loose on a punching bag or any other gym equipment.

There is another possibility that he's refusing to even think about, never mind consider - that way lays dragons, uncharted territory, and probable suspensions. That doesn't even bring into account the fact that she's technically still involved with Lukewarm-the-Workaholic.

So, that's a no.

Well, he considers, as long as the liquor is loosening her tongue, maybe he can get a few burning questions answered. Worth a shot, anyway. "Why did you come here, Andy? Of all people, of all places, why did you come here?"

Her lower lip trembles momentarily before she's back in control. "You said I could call you if I needed to," she replies hesitantly.

"True, I did. But that doesn't explain why you jumped me when I asked if you wanted to talk."

She searches his face, looking for clues as to his mental state, but he wasn't undercover for eight months for nothing - he has a perfect poker face and uses it to keep his expression neutral but slightly inquisitive. "Because I knew you would make me feel better. Somehow you always have. You make me feel safe, even when everything else is blowing up around my ears. I was terrified going into that basement, jumping at every shadow," Andy has gone deep into her memories, that much Sam can tell, so he gently covers her wringing hands with one of his own, "but I knew that I just had to hang on until you got there."

She flips one of her hands over to entwine her fingers with his, clutching to him with a death-grip. So far, it's about the only physical comfort she's allowed him to give her, but it will do for now. "Somehow you always know when I need you. You don't know how dumb it makes me feel, always needing to be rescued, but you never make me feel incompetent for it. Like with Benny last week, you didn't have to help - actually, you probably should have just let me dangle, especially after I asked Luke to save me from your hangover," she adds with a guilty wince.

Sam had suspected it had been something along those lines, he'd just been relieved to have a chance to nurse his headache in relative peace. At least she and his beloved silver beast had escaped the drive-by unscathed. "Keep talking," he says dryly.

She opens her mouth to reply when the lights flicker and then the house comes alive with a whir.

"Come on," he commands, standing and using their still joined hands to drag her upright as well, "you might as well make yourself useful and help me turn some of this off." Andy is given the job of turning off the TV and the lights in the kitchen, while Sam takes care of the bedrooms.

Partway through, her cell phone rings; Andy checks the call display and only slightly reluctantly answers upon seeing that Luke is checking up on her. "Hi," she greets, slumping down on the sofa and curling up into one corner.

"How are you doing?"

The innocent tone of the question ignites Andy's ire once again. "How do you think I'm doing?" she snaps defensively.

"No need to get angry," he calmly responds. "I just thought you'd want to know that so far we've started recovery on at least ten sets of remains. The coroner will have to examine them, but right now they all look to be little girls between eight and eleven years old. You took down a real predator," he finishes admiringly, though Andy can detect a trace of envy in his tone.

However, her most dominant emotion right now is outrage and it's coming through loud and clear. "Let me get this straight," she starts incredulously, "you're congratulating me on _killing someone_?"

"He was a rabid dog, Andy, he needed to be put down. You did a good thing." Now that's condescension. A flicker of movement on the edge of her vision brings her head up to find Sam hovering in the doorway; his fists are clenched and there's a vein throbbing in his forehead - Andy figures he's imagining reaching through the phone lines to deck or strangle her boyfriend.

"I don't know why I ever thought this could work," she's thinking aloud now, disbelieving of her own obliviousness in choosing a boyfriend with her so-called head. _God, I've been so stupid_.

Luke's indignant squawk over the phone lets her know that she said that last part aloud, too. Oops. "Why don't I call you in the morning, since you're obviously distraught and now thinking clearly."

"No, Luke, I'm thinking perfectly for the first time in months. I don't know why I looked up to you in the first place. I can't become a cop like you, moreover I don't ever _want_ to become a cop like you. The day I stop seeing people as people, and start seeing them as things like evidence, is the day I turn in my gun and badge! And in case you've been too distracted by your huge serial killer case and haven't figured it out yet, we're over!" she shouts into the phone. Before he has a chance to rebut, Andy ends the call, shuts her phone off, and tosses it across the room. Then she crosses her arms and sinks into the sofa cushions with an aggravated huff.

Slow applause brings her attention back to Sam, now entering the living room and looking rather proud of her. The sight of his approval brings a warm glow to her chest and an embarrassed tinge of pink to her cheeks.

Of course he's proud of her; he's been waiting for her to stand up for herself to that tool for weeks now, and the resulting show was even better than expected. The only thing that could make it better than that is if she'd done that to Lukewarm's face instead of over the phone.

"I'm sorry you saw that," Andy mutters now, looking at her nails.

Sam walks over and lifts up her feet before sitting down with her legs lying across his lap. "Don't be. I was just there in case you decided to roll over and let him walk all over you again." Andy starts to protest but stops, thinking back. True, she largely has allowed Luke take the lead in their relationship, preferring general acquiescence over rocking the boat.

Also true is that she's done her very best to avoid talking about her parents and her past - opting for letting Luke natter on about this case or that. And come to think of it, making out in front of a murder house after telling her that he'd be out of a job without love is a little creepy.

No, like she told Traci, it was romantic and honest.

Well, if she was less than completely honest about her family history, deliberately neglecting to tell him about her mother leaving and her father's subsequent drinking problem, what is he hiding about his? And what was that Sam had said about Luke picking a different rookie every year? Is it true and, if so, how long has it been going on?

Frustrated by her thoughts, Andy glances at Sam only to find him looking back at her with an expectant expression and rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine, maybe I did let him do that _a little_," she emphasizes. He chokes off a burst of laughter, trying to disguise it as a cough, and she shoves his shoulder in response before settling back with another huff. "Ass," she mutters and he goes off on another coughing fit while she returns to her thoughts.

Andy thinks back over the past few months and doesn't exactly like what she sees: after a disastrous first day wherein she was so overcome with excitement over her first arrest that she didn't understand when her collar tried to tell her he was undercover (not to mention being held at gunpoint by a scared kid while lacking backup), to the next day when the staff sergeant set her up for the biggest hazing of her life, to that night when she turned down what would probably be the best sex of her life on the flimsy excuse of it being her first week on the job and him being her Training Officer. How stupid could you get?

And then, she turns right around and accepts Luke's invitation for a drink only a couple of days later (while it's still her first week on the job, mind you), in a decision fueled by watching that battered wife keep going back to her husband which was immediately followed by her father getting drunk and picking a fight of his own. So much for choosing with your head.

Goddammit. Just thinking about her decision-making paradigm for the past few months nearly makes her shudder with embarrassment and she covers her face with her hands with a low moan of self-disgust.

How could she go from Sam, who is quite possibly the most loyal, dedicated man she's ever met and who has never failed to put her first in his priorities, to Luke, who is, as his actions tonight bear out, more dedicated to his job than his girlfriend.

She peeks out from between her fingers at Sam, who is now watching her with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes. "Got something to say, McNally?"

Andy lowers her hands to play with the hem of her tank top, very deliberately focusing on finding loose threads and not on her Training Officer's face. "What did you mean, when you said Luke picks a different rookie every year?"

She feels more than hears his reluctant sigh. "Andy..."

She finally meets his eyes, giving him the pleading face that almost never fails to get her what she wants. "Please, Sam?"

He looks away and pinches the bridge of his nose again - he's going to regret this, he just knows it. "All right, put those away," he eventually replies with exasperation. "Now keep in mind, most of this is second-hand stuff I heard here and there down the grapevine: apparently before he made detective, he was pretty hot and heavy with his partner; they were even shacking up together. Now, nobody knows exactly what happened, but one day they were together and the next she was gone to some sort of task force, and he was left behind nursing a broken heart.

"He threw himself into his work, took the Detective's exam a few months later, and got transferred to HQ with the promotion not long after that. Which is when he started taking up with the rookies. From what I understand, his ex is blonde with light-colored eyes, so every girl thereafter has dark eyes and hair." Sam watches with sympathy as Andy pulls some of her hair over her shoulder to stare at the dark strands. "He'd be attentive at first, but his cases would always take priority, and the eventual break-ups weren't exactly pretty. More than one of the girls transferred out not long afterwards.

"When Zoe Martinelli was murdered two years ago, Callaghan got himself appointed as the head of the task force and since she was assigned here, it only made sense for him to work out of here too. Taking up with the rookies didn't start again until after his prime suspect got away because Callaghan didn't have enough evidence to actually charge him, which took a few weeks, but then he went right back to his pattern: young, dark hair, dark eyes, few family connections, usually one with real potential." It nearly breaks Sam's heart to watch Andy shrink into herself with every similarity, but she had asked and he'd be damned if he told her anything but the truth. "I'm sorry, Andy."

"But you said most of it was second-hand, it could just be exaggerated from retelling!" she exclaims desperately. Sam doesn't blame her for trying - it has to hurt to think you're building a relationship with someone and then find out that they were using you to forget about an ex.

"I was here with him for a full year before I started prep to go under," Sam says, "and the rookie he was seeing lasted less than six months with him, and transferred to another division a few weeks later. The TOs generally stay out of it, but ask Oliver about-... damn, what was her name again? Em, em-something Collins - he took up with her a few weeks before I went under and rumor has it that it ended less than well."

To her dismay, Andy can feel more tears welling up in her eyes and looks back down at her lap before Sam sees them. "Thank you for telling me," she chokes out.

Once again his hand appears in her line of vision to cover hers, entangling their fingers together. "I'm sorry I didn't make you listen before."

Andy's shoulders quake as she tries to figure out just how things got to this point. And then she remembers the little girl in the ice cream truck, running for her life, and the Rec Centre, and the man she killed, and she can't believe she's here worrying about her love life when a man's death can be laid directly at her feet.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Andy bursts into tears. Within moments she's being lifted off the couch and settled on Sam's lap as he wraps his arms tightly around her. He murmurs soothing nonsense into her ears, letting her know that she's not alone, occasionally pressing a kiss to her hair, and rubs his hands up and down her back, but always encourages her to just let it out, that she'll feel a bit better once she does.

Eventually, totally exhausted by the heat and stress and grief, Andy cries herself to sleep. Sam peers down at her, regarding his soaked t-shirt and the slender hands clenched in the same. With a tired sigh, he lifts her in his arms and carries her towards the bedrooms, whacking the light switch with an elbow as he passes by, and ultimately decides to place her in his own room since none of the other beds are made up.

He gently places her on his bed, where he's fantasized her presence more times than he cares to count, and considers the problem of her jeans. She'll probably be uncomfortable sleeping in them, but taking them off while she's asleep more than probably crosses that Training Officer-Rookie line.

Before he can make a decision, Andy drifts into semi-consciousness and takes it out of his hands by shimmying out of her jeans and tossing them off to the side. Her tank top quickly follows and she's just reaching for her sports bra when Sam breaks out of his hormone-induced stupor and stops her.

Very deliberately _not_ thinking about the perfection laid out before him, Sam carefully tucks her in, covering her up to her chin - she may get overheated in a few minutes, but hopefully the covers won't get flung off until after he beats a strategic retreat. Sam brushes her hair off her face with gentle fingers and freezes when Andy stirs, rolls over onto her stomach, and buries her face in his pillow.

Even in sleep, she still looks troubled, but her features seem to relax just a bit as her breaths even out and deepen.

It takes every ounce of willpower Sam possesses to turn away and leave the room.

* * *

><p>Not long after Sam finally falls into an anxious doze, he's awakened by a high-pitched wail of agony that breaks off into gasping sobs. He's off the bed in an instant and bursts into his bedroom in four bounding steps.<p>

Andy is in the middle of the bed, sitting up, but her head is bent over the knees that have been pulled to her chest, desperately wringing her trembling hands. Between one breath and the next, Sam is sitting beside her and cautiously puts his hand on her hair, wary of being the cause for an epic freak-out. To his relief, she doesn't pull away, though she gasps loudly and shudders when he first touches her and he knows that she's still caught in the depths of her nightmare.

"McNally," he starts firmly, "it was just a dream. You're safe, okay? Nothing can hurt you here, not as long as I'm around. I'm here, Andy, and you're safe."

"S-S-Sam," she stutters out, ending on a low moan. One hand reaches out, blindly searching for him, and that clinches it for him. He picks her up, shifts to the centre of bed, and leans back against the headboard. He settles her sideways in his lap and holds her tightly, pressing her head down on his chest so she can listen to his heartbeat.

"I'm here," he repeats, "you're safe." She's still crying, still reliving her dream so Sam instructs her to tell him what her dream was about. "_McNally_," he growls when she doesn't respond right away.

She sucks in another shuddering breath and starts talking, her voice so low Sam strains to hear her, "I'm back in the Rec Centre, walking through the basement, and my flashlight is just bouncing off the walls, and I'm jumping at every shadow and every sound, and my heart is pounding so loudly I'm sure it's echoing.

"Then I hear a whimper - small, scared - and I look down and that little girl is gagged with duct tape and the look in her eyes... God, Sam, she was so scared and she was looking at me to save her, but I couldn't, and-and..." Andy can feel more tears pricking at her eyes, but she needs to get this out.

"And then I heard a sound, and I turn around and he's right there, stuffing something into a bag, and I told him to stop, to put his hands up, and he did but he started walking towards me. I dropped my flashlight on the ground, and it's throwing shadows across his face and making him look like a demon, and I can see Oliver's gun in his waistband and I'm pointing mine at him, and all I want was for you to just hurry up and get there and tell me what to do.

"And then he stops, and I'm still shouting at him, and then he goes for the gun, and I-... I panic," she confesses, her voice breaking. For probably the first time ever, Sam is grateful to his sister for teaching him how to comfort traumatized women after a nightmare.

"I pulled the trigger, and the gun is jerking in my hands, and he just- he just shudders and drops, and he's just lying there with his eyes open and these holes in his chest, and I can't look away. But then I blink and when I look again it's not that pervert lying there, it's _you_, and you're dead 'cause I- 'cause I killed you, and I'm trying to get to you but I can't move no matter how hard I try, and I'm screaming at you to wake up and that I'm sorry but you don't, and then I wake up."

By the time she finishes describing it, Andy has silent tears streaking down her cheeks as her shoulders heave with suppressed sobbing, and she is giving every impression of trying to burrow directly into Sam's skin. He doesn't mind, and is wrapped so tightly around her that he's not quite sure where he ends and she begins. Her face is buried in his neck and Sam's cheek is resting on top of her head while her tears burn into him like acid.

"I'm right here," he murmurs. "I'm safe; I'm fine. No extra holes; no blood." Sam grabs one of her hands and places it on his chest approximately where she'd shot the pedophile so she can feel the unmarred skin for herself. "See? You didn't hurt me, and you were only defending yourself from someone who had already shown that he didn't care about hurting cops, okay? I know it doesn't feel like it and you don't believe me, but you did the right thing, Andy.

"How about instead of focusing on the misspent life that ended, you remember the lives you saved? Like the little girl? And Oliver? If you hadn't been there, that bastard wouldn't have hesitated to shoot him again when he went back upstairs."

Andy shudders and sniffles, but she's stopped crying, so Sam knows she's listening intently.

"You remember when we first started riding together, and I told you that you could ask me about anything you needed to know and that I would always be honest with you?" It's a single twitch of her head, but it is a nod. "So you know I'm not lying to you now when I tell you that what happened today will never get easier and it always sucks, but it's a hazard of the job. You may get to the point where the only deaths you really regret are the senseless ones, when there might have been another way out, but the day you stop caring completely is the day you need to turn in your badge," he says firmly, to a reply of another tiny nod.

"I'm afraid to go back to sleep," she whispers into his skin. "I don't want to see it any more."

Sam sighs and resettles his arms around her. "You can't just not sleep, McNally."

"Make me forget, Sam? Please? I don't want to see it any more," she repeats as softly, lifting her head to look him in the eye.

The room is almost pitch-black but Sam can still see the desperate, pleading expression on her face as if it was full daylight. "Andy," he breathes, still hesitant. He has an idea of what she has in mind, but if he follows through and she rejects him later, his bruised, fragile heart will shatter into a million pieces. At the same time, though, so far his other methods of coping have failed to help and her pain is like a physical thing, stabbing him in the chest.

"Please, Sam?" she asks again, voice wobbling dangerously.

He caves like a house of cards and presses a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay, I've got what you need." He won't take things too far, not while her fragile emotional state leaves her so vulnerable, but he knows that she won't get any rest at all unless he can get her so far past exhausted that she simply passes out.

With that in mind, he goes slowly, trying not to startle or otherwise discomfit her, and slowly trails his lips down her nose until he reaches the tip of it, where he pauses for a second before reversing and heading back up to her forehead. He plants soft, gentle kisses across her temple and down her cheek, flicking his tongue at the end of her chin, and then heads up the other side of her face, gradually drawing a heart shape with his lips.

He knows when Andy catches on to the pattern because her breath hitches as she whispers his name wonderingly. He finishes his artwork with a tender kiss to the end of her nose, eliciting a wet-sounding giggle. Sam pulls back to check on her, to make sure she's still okay with where this is headed, and the next thing he knows her lips are ravaging his, her arms are winding around his neck, and her legs are suddenly straddling his lap.

He responds with alacrity, but is careful to hold himself in check: this is supposed to be about her, after all. His hands grab her hips, holding her aloft and unable to join their pelvises together, which she protests with a disappointed mewl but is quickly distracted with the game their tongues seem to be playing.

Sam breaks their kiss and uses his grip on her to raise her body high enough for him to comfortably reach her breasts, still encased in the sports bra; he doesn't care and nuzzles a hardened nipple through the fabric. Andy's hands find his head, fingers sifting through the surprisingly soft hair, and hold him there, her nails digging into his scalp when he closes his lips around his find and begins to suckle.

Trusting her to be enamored enough with what he's doing to her chest to stay put, Sam releases her hips long enough to strip the bra off, and then he's face-to-breasts with the most perfect pair he's ever seen. They're round and full, a perfect handful, with large aureoles and pebbled, strawberry-tinted nipples.

One hand comes up to cup, weigh, and massage, which she appears to like if the way she's chanting his name is any indication, and returns to worshipping the flawless bounty laid out before him with lips and tongue.

Just when her moans start to change to whimpers, Sam releases her and switches, starting the exploratory process all over again. Andy has, quite possibly, the softest skin he's ever come across - smooth and supple, with the faintest scent of that jasmine lotion she uses that drives him crazy wanting to taste and touch.

He can also smell the proof of her arousal, musky and tart, rising up between them, and he really wants to find out if she tastes as good down there as she appears to everywhere else. With that in mind, Sam slides them down the bed until they're lying flat and then flips them over so he's on top. Rather reluctantly abandoning her breasts, Sam leaves a trail of fire down Andy's stomach as he kisses and sucks his way south.

Andy arches her back and digs her fingers into his scalp, trying to guide him to where she needs him most, and Sam appears to obey her demands until he drops a kiss on the apex of her mound and then veers sideways down one leg, pausing only to nuzzle at her hipbones. Her agonized whimper tears at his heart but he won't be distracted from his mission.

Sam gives each leg the same treatment, kissing his way down, nibbling on her toes a bit, and then moving back up. Finally, he reaches the apex of her thighs, his ultimate goal, and has to stop to breathe her in. Andy's trembling and whimpering, breathing hard and chanting his name around the fist she's stuffed in her mouth. "Ah-ah-ah," Sam chides with a flash of dimples, reaching up to pull her hand from her mouth. "I want to hear you, McNally; every sigh, every moan, every scream - don't hold back on me now."

Andy complies with his order by moaning his name when he takes her hands and wraps them around the slats of his headboard. "Don't move 'em one inch," he adds with another smile. Sam leans in and kisses her deeply, which Andy takes advantage of by wrapping her legs around his waist. "Now who's the evil one? Trying to distract me... Bad Andy."

"Sam!" Andy protests when he unwinds her legs far enough to slide back down her body. This is where he has to be cautious: if he's not careful, she'll just explode with the first touch and while that would be great fun any other time, he needs to make this last. So he distracts her momentarily by swirling his tongue in her navel before blowing a raspberry in the soft curve of her belly just below.

He drapes her thighs over his shoulder, settling comfortably between them as he considers paradise. She's still wearing her panties, which are standard white, soaked completely through, and nearly transparent. Andy is almost completely bare underneath them, which is a bigger turn-on than it probably should be, and Sam can't stop himself from pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her covered mound which makes her hips surge upwards and her back arch as she yodels her approval.

He hooks his hands around her thighs, holding her down, and delicately laps at her through the fabric. For once she's actually following orders by not trying to muffle the sounds of her pleasure, and her whimpering gasps and prayers are almost too much for him to take. As fantastic as she smells, she tastes even better and Sam simply covers as much of her with his tongue as possible, trying to absorb every bit of her flavor.

Andy's beyond words by now, reduced to moaning her approval, and she's not sure how much more torture she can take. Sam seems to sense the moment she's about to plummet over the precipice into ecstasy and backs off, the bastard. Finally, _finally_, he removes her underwear, tossing it off to parts unknown, but she doesn't care because he's settled back between her legs and what feels like it could be the tip of his nose has nestled between her folds and is just barely touching the tight, swollen bud of her clitoris.

She's panting like she's been running a marathon and Sam can see and feel the muscles in her stomach and thighs pulsing and quivering. To distract her a bit more, he reaches up and roughly tweaks one of her nipples between her fingers. The pleasure-pain streaks straight down her body to her centre and Andy moans around a shudder.

Sam starts around the edges, lapping up every drop of her essence that he can find, slowly making his way to her centre, where she needs and wants him most. She needs pressure, and friction, and enough with the teasing already! When the tip of his tongue finally slides between her her folds and delicately brushes that little bundle of nerves Andy cries out wordlessly, her entire body trying to surge off the bed.

Sam's so fascinated by Andy and her body and its reactions to him that it's not difficult for him to ignore the urgings of his own raging hormones. He hooks his arms around her thighs again, using the tips of his fingers to gently pull her folds apart just a bit more and then there he is, looking straight into the gates of paradise.

He has to pause for a second to give thanks before giving that little button another nudge with the tip of his tongue, gaining a broken sob for his efforts. Sam explores every inch of her centre with careful attention - when he pushes his tongue just inside her entrance and wiggles it a bit, her hands abandon the headboard and tangle in his hair, digging her nails into his scalp.

Sam gingerly pushes a finger into her and she's so wound up that he has to use more force than expected as those internal muscles clamp down hard on his hand. Half a dozen times Andy gets so close to climax she can smell and taste it, but Sam always seems to know and brings her back down from the peak just in time.

By the time he is ready for her to let loose she's practically sobbing with frustration, trembling hard with the force of unfulfilled arousal,and would probably threaten to kill him if she could find the air or the words. Sam probes at the inside of her sheath, now looking for the spot he has deliberately avoided - at the same instant that he finds it he seals his lips around her clitoris and sucks hard.

Andy screams as she bursts into the most intense orgasm of her life, her whole body convulsing and clenching with the force of it. Sam lashes his tongue over her clit and presses that special spot again, forcing her body into climax after climax, rolling them over each other until Andy feels like one giant starburst of ecstasy. With one final spasm of pleasure, her world goes white.

* * *

><p>When Andy wakes, she is lying on her stomach on a strange bed in a strange bedroom, with sunlight streaming in around partially closed blinds, and she's alone. The bedding smells familiar, and just the scent of it makes her relax.<p>

Andy turns her head to look at the other side of the bed and discovers her clothing, neatly folded, placed near the other pillow. Sitting on top is what appears to be a note, her cell phone, and a single key on a novelty keychain; Andy rolls on to her back and picks the note up - the author's handwriting is unmistakable and she smiles despite herself.

"_Good morning Sunshine,_" the note reads. "_I was going to wake you before I left, since not all of us are getting a week-long vacation, but you looked so exhausted I didn't have the heart to._

_You have the run of the house, feel free to raid the fridge and cupboards for whatever you need. The key is in case you need to leave for whatever reason - the code for the alarm is: 72724._

_I'll call around noon to check up on you. In the meantime, take it easy, would you?_

_Sam"_

Andy's smile softens; they definitely have to talk about what happened last night, but she has zero plans to cry rape or anything similar. Andy has never had an experience like that before: where her partner would put her needs so far above his that he would completely ignore his own. She'd never felt so loved.

So... _cherished_.

Ever.

In her entire lifetime.

Just remembering what he'd done to her with those hands, those lips, and Jesus, that tongue... She shivers as a rush of warmth settles deep in her belly.

Andy waits for the panic to appear, waits to feel the urge to run, but this is _Sam_ she's talking about. Sam Swarek, the man who has mentored and protected her, demonstrating every day what it means to be a decent, reasonably mature human being and an even better cop. Andy can no more run from Sam than she could stay with anyone else.

Well, since picking someone with her so-called "head" didn't work out so well, there's only one thing left to do, isn't there?

* * *

><p>Later, when Andy greets Sam at the door, clad only in a fire-engine-red, satin and lace bra and panty set, she barely gives him time to close the door (or fully appreciate the view) before she pounces, sealing her mouth over his in a sizzling brain-melter of a kiss.<p>

Sam pulls back long enough to say her name questioningly with an added "Wha-?" before she lays another kiss on him that could stop a train.

Andy breaks away and sucks her way down his neck. "Sam?" she murmurs into his skin.

"Yeah?" he responds shakily. He's not quite sure what's gotten into her, but he's not about to push his luck by asking.

"Take me to bed?"

Sam responds by hoisting her into his arms - Andy's legs wrap around his waist as if by reflex as her hands sift through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. He hisses out a breath and captures her earlobe in his mouth, gently worrying it with his teeth as he hustles them back to his bedroom. He can feel the heat of her through his clothing and its starting to make him crazy.

He tumbles them onto the bed, eagerly removing his shirt and her bra, and Andy fits herself to him, skin to skin, and her hardened nipples are poking into his chest. She stops Sam when he tries to remove her underwear and rolls them over until she's on top. Andy flashes him a wicked smile with her " My turn!" and Sam can feel his groin tighten with anticipation.

She kisses him thoroughly, finding his flat nipples with her fingers and rubbing them, surprising a moan out of him. Andy can't stop her chuckle and separates their lips so she can laugh, still snickering as she kisses her way back down his jaw and throat.

Her humor is infectious and Sam finds himself grinning too, even as she does things to him that should be illegal. She pauses to nibble on his collarbone, and leaves a trail of fire across his chest as she searches out his nipples with her lips. When she finds one and closes her lips around it to suckle, a curse escapes Sam's throat as his hips surge up.

Andy pays an equal amount of attention to the other nipple before she nips and sucks her way down his stomach, his muscles jumping and clenching under her attentions. She plays with his navel for a minute, flickering her tongue in and around it, as her hands make quick work of his belt. Unfastening his jeans takes a bit more effort, thanks to his erection pounding against the zipper, trying desperately to get out.

She kneels between Sam's legs and draws his jeans and shorts down and off in one smooth movement. His erection rebounds against his belly, reaching almost to his navel, and Andy can't help but stop to admire. He's long and thick, twitching and waving at her, and she feels rush of heat between her thighs at the thought of actually getting that monster inside her. Had she known he was hiding that in his pants from the beginning, she probably would have been all over him like white on rice - and to hell with Luke. What exactly had she been thinking turning this man down? Oh wait, she hadn't. _Stupid_.

Well, now is her chance to make up for it.

Andy shuffles in closer, kneeling between his thighs again, and plants her hands on either side of his hips. She leans in close to inhale the essence of Sam, and his cock jumps up to tap her on the nose. She can't help the laugh that escapes her, even as Sam begins to look mortified, but she quickly soothes any embarrassment by wrapping her fingers around him, taking his measure.

He's so wide that her fingers barely overlap and there's another corresponding surge of heat in her lower belly. Andy softly kisses the blunted head and laps up the bead of wetness that appears at the tip, making a harsh groan rip from Sam's throat above her. She explores him, trying to map every square inch with her tongue, and uses her free hand to cup the heavy sac that hangs below. She gently rolls the globes of his testicles in her palm before she closes her lips over his head and starts to suck.

Sam's hips thrust upward again and he's breathing hard, trying to maintain the leash on his control. Andy opens her jaw a bit wider and slides farther down on him, beginning to bob her head as she takes a bit more with every downstroke.

Sam is beyond words as he sinks his fingers into the satiny softness of her hair and cups the back of her head, encouraging her with gentle pressure. His moans and sighs of pleasure egg her on, teaching her what he likes. For several minutes it's just him and her and the hot, wet cavern of her mouth on his cock. Finally he feels the familiar tightening in the base of his spine and his balls. "Andy. Andy, I'm going to-..." he tries to warn her, to give her the opportunity to pull away.

She deliberately looks him straight in the eyes as she takes as much of him into her mouth as she can, and reaches below his sac to carefully stroke the soft flesh of his perineum while she starts to hum. Sam's eyes roll back into his head as he explodes with a shout; the hot pulses of his release jet into the back of Andy's throat and she's working overtime to swallow it all. He tastes rather salty-sweet with a hint of musk, but she thinks she can detect a trace of citrus (she's heard of using diet to influence intimate flavors before, and now vows to do more research into it).

When he's relaxed and panting, Andy catches his eye again and swallows exaggeratedly. Sam's eyes light up and before she knows it he's hauled her up his body to meld his mouth to hers, not seeming to notice or mind the taste of himself on her lips as he kisses her deeply. "That was the most incredible-..." Sam marvels, unable to find the words to complete the sentence, after he momentarily releases her. "You amaze me," he adds softly. "Can I ask what brought that on?"

Sam watches, fascinated, as a tender look appears in her eyes and she shrugs. "Part of it was to thank you, both for helping me last night and the last few months in general," Andy says, not oblivious to the way his expression flattens and cools. "Mostly, though," she continues, "I wanted to make you feel like I did last night and this morning. I've never felt so... loved before. You made me feel like I was adored, and, and cherished, like I was being worshipped. Like I was worthy of it."

He catches her face in his hands and looks her directly in the eyes, needing her full attention for what he's about to say. "You are," he responds firmly. "You are all of those things and more." It's as close to an actual declaration as he's ever come and, remembering what she told Callaghan about running when things get serious, he tries to prepare himself for her to bolt.

Andy's eyes fill with tears when she realizes that he's speaking seriously, that he honestly believes it, and she has to kiss him lest she start bawling. When she pulls away that soft, tender expression is back on her face as she searches for the words she wants. "The feeling is entirely mutual," she finally says, hoping he understands.

She can see the change come over Sam as he slowly brightens, his eyes searching hers, and suddenly she's on her back with him looming over her. Andy wraps her arms around him as he lowers his upper body to fully rest upon hers, taking her lips in a thorough, drugging kiss. Sam's skin is still overheated, his body is a solid, reassuring weight upon hers, that light dusting of chest hair is gently abrading her diamond-hard nipples in interesting and arousing ways, and Andy could happily stay here like this forever.

Sam's had time to recover and Andy soon feels an insistent prodding between her legs. She smiles into their kiss at the same time he does, and he reaches between them to test her readiness - not that it's necessary, she's been ready to go since before he got home - and encounters nothing but soaked red lace and hot flesh. He groans when his renewed erection brushes against the lace of her panties and fastens his lips to the soft skin below her ear as he swiftly removes the flimsy barrier separating them. "Christ, Andy," he mutters.

Andy's back arches when he finally touches her, skin to skin, and she wraps her legs around his waist with alacrity. "Now, Sam," she implores. "I don't want to wait any more. Make love to me."

He can no more deny her this than he could her request last night, and positions himself at her entrance. She is impatient with the desire that's been shimmering through her veins all day, and presses her heels into the muscled cheeks of his rear, pulling him into her.

Andy is hot and wet and _god, so freaking tight_, and Sam thinks that the top of his head might blow off by the time they're done. She whimpers and moans as he fills her, slowly and inexorably sliding home, while her inner muscles flutter and pulse around him as she struggles to accommodate him. "Oh God, Sam," she moans in his ear. "Oh, you feel so good."

Sam is so caught up in the sensation of feeling her tight sheath surrounding him that he barely hears her. Once he's sure that he won't just explode the second he moves, Sam withdraws from her ever-so-slowly until just his tip is still resting inside her. Andy whimpers a protest when she feels him leave her, her back arching, but he's already surging back into her with a force that sends shivers up her spine when he bottoms out.

Sam sets up a smooth, driving rhythm, one hand coming up to cup and massage those perfect breasts that he's been unable to get out of his mind all day. Andy is wrapped around him, kissing his neck, nibbling on his earlobe, whispering hot encouragement in his ear, even as he tells her how hot and tight she is, how good she feels wrapped around him, how beautiful she is, how much he loves what she does to him.

Andy crashes into her orgasm without any warning, gasping and keening, those fantastic inner muscles of hers gripping and clasping at him. Sam presses as deep within her as he can and stills long enough for her to recover a bit, gently tweaking her strawberry-colored nipples the entire time, and delivers a smacking kiss to her lips. "All right?"

The smile Andy flashes him is euphoric as she applies an internal squeeze that makes him hiss before she captures him for a longer, deeper kiss. "God, yes. I've got at least one more of those in me, so don't stop now."

Sam chortles and does as he's told, pulling almost the entire way out before he thrusts back into her so hard her breasts jiggle. Andy squeaks in surprise at the force but is far from protesting as she attaches her lips to his throat, roughly nipping and sucking at the column of flesh. "Give it to me, Sam," she urges, "give me all you've got."

Sam burrows his free hand down between them and thumbs her throbbing, swollen clitoris with callus-roughened digits. Andy's moan turns into an ascending cry of pleasure as he drives her back up the mountain. She chants his name along with calls to God with increasing volume as her body tightens with anticipation. A few hard thrusts, each draging a wordless exclamation from her chest, before Sam leans down and sinks his teeth into the curve of her shoulder.

The sharp sting of pleasure-pain sends Andy thundering into her second climax of the night. This time Sam doesn't let up and keeps plunging into her depths with increasing force, pressing through a quivering, clenching internal grip so tight his eyes nearly roll back in his head. Andy's chest is heaving and her eyes glimmer with exhaustion, but Sam is bound and determined to wring one more orgasm from her incredibly giving body. "One more," he urges in her ear. "Come on, Andy, give me one more."

"Is that it? That's all you've got?" she asks tauntingly between gasps of air.

Sam quirks an eyebrow as he accepts her challenge with a grin. He hooks his arms under her legs and forcibly unwinds them from around his waist, pressing down until she's nearly bent double. The change in position causes the wide, blunt head of his erection to pass over that magical spot he found with such success last night, and Andy squeaks every time he nudges it.

"Let go, Sam," Andy orders quietly. "I want to feel it, I need to feel it; let go for me, Sam."

"You first," he grunts back. One particularly forceful thrust does more than nudge her special spot before he bottoms out, deeper than he's ever been. Andy seizes around him with a strangled cry, sucking in oxygen like crazy. Sam rotates his hips in a little circle, his pelvis mashing her clitoris between their bodies, and Andy releases a shuddering cry, clamping down hard.

Her body seems to explode like a supernova, an actual, honest-to-god full body climax screaming through her every nerve, heightening every sensation. She can feel everything: the sleek muscles of Sam's shoulders and back under her hands; the evening stubble on his face against her neck; the bunched muscles in his hair-roughened arms under her knees; every bump, ridge and vein of the steely rod plundering her insides; the corded tendons in Sam's neck as his head drops backwards with a roar escaping from his chest; the hot, hot pulses of his release pumping deep into her belly.

Someone's screaming, she thinks dimly, only to realize that it's herself chanting a combination of his name, "YES!", and "OH GOD!". When all is said and done Sam releases her legs, which flop limply to the bed on either side of his, and he collapses onto her with a groan. He's solid and heavy with relaxed muscle, but Andy couldn't care less. She is safe and warm, completely and totally satisfied, surrounded by the man she is slowly coming to realize she can't live without.

"Wow," he huffs, his breath and heartbeat gradually slowing as the sweat covering his body cools.

"Wow," Andy agrees.

Sam captures her mouth in a sweet kiss, a reassuring glide of lips and tongues, trying to express all the emotions he's not allowed to speak yet. He rolls off her, slipping out of her sheath with regret, and settles on his back. "Best ever," he confirms with a jaw-cracking yawn as Andy snuggles into his side.

Andy hums agreeably under her breath, already falling asleep. She's completely exhausted - three earth-shaking orgasms in a row can do that to a person - and can feel her eyelids drooping despite her best efforts.

"Get some sleep, Andy."

She yawns widely in his face, settles her head on his shoulder, and goes limp with relaxation. "Love you," she breathes. She's out a heartbeat later.

Meanwhile Sam's breath stalls in his lungs as his heart starts to pound again. "I love you, too," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. He's fairly sure she won't remember saying it come morning, but he files her subconscious confession away in the deepest parts of a heart that is rapidly mending.

There's still the problem of him being her Training Officer, and not wanting to pass the privilege on to one of the others. Sam knows that nobody can train her to be the kind of cop she's meant to become except him, but there will only be a problem if they get caught. That means laying some ground rules for general conduct while on duty or anywhere someone they know might see them. However, rumor has it that Boyko is on the way out, and all of his potential replacements have serious money in the precinct pool.

Sam puts all of that out of his mind; the woman he has been torturing himself over for months actually loves him back - everything else is just gravy.

He plants another lingering kiss to her forehead and closes his eyes. It feels like a massive weight has been lifted off his chest - tomorrow he'll do a victory dance, but for tonight nothing exists except the incredible woman in his arms, in his bed.

_God, I love this girl_.

**Fin.**

* * *

><p>That's all for now folks; please review, they're like air and they inspire me to write more!<p>

Also, for anyone who's interested, the title of You Can Let Go comes from a song of the same name by Backstreet Boys - I thought it was accurate and appropriate, and have included the lyrics below:

_[Verse 1]_  
>I can see in your eyes<br>Broken windows, fallen skies  
>Baby, baby what you hidin' from<br>The light that followed you around  
>Lately nowhere to be found<br>Don't you know that I'm your place to run

_[Chorus]_  
>You been holding on so long<br>Tryin' to make believe that nothing's wrong  
>Not letting it show<br>And there ain't nothing you can do  
>To make me turn away from you<br>I need you to know

That you can let go

_[Verse 2]_  
>Sifting through shattered dreams<br>Livin' in the in between  
>Baby, babe it's gonna be alright<br>(You can let go)  
>When you're lost, let down, disappointed<br>And jerked around in this cold, cold world  
>I will always be by your side<p>

_[Chorus]_  
>You been holding on so long<br>Tryin' to make believe that nothing's wrong  
>Not letting it show<br>There ain't nothin' you can do  
>To make me turn away from you<br>I need you to know

That you can let go

_[Bridge]_  
>Don't be afraid when you're falling apart<br>Don't hesitate I'll be right where you are  
>Open your eyes there's a crack in the dark<p>

Never let me see you cry  
>You locked it somewhere deep inside<br>Baby, baby let me hold you tight

Make it alright

Baby, baby gonna be alright  
>Cause I'm by your side<br>When the whole world turns against you (I won't turn against you)  
>Not letting it show<br>Baby, babe gonna be alright  
>Cause I'm by your side<br>When the whole world turns against you  
>You can let go<p>

You been holding on so long  
>Tryin' to make believe that nothing's wrong<br>Not letting it show  
>You can let go<br>There ain't nothing you can do  
>To make me turn away from you<br>I need you to know.

Thanks again for your support!


	4. Takedown - Part 1

**Author's Note:** Well, after more than a year, I decided to just upload the last completed installment. There will be no more after this one. I sincerely apologize for taking so long, and huge thanks goes to everyone for being so patient and encouraging as I struggled to finish this. If things had gone as planned, this would have been Chapter 5. Now, it's merely the last of "4 times Andy and Sam could have gotten together". Thanks again for favoriting this, and all of your kind words - I hope this helps make up for the long wait. As usual this is un-betaed and all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing - I'm just borrowing them for a little while longer.

* * *

><p><strong>Takedown (12)**

Andy sucks in a deep breath, attempting to calm her still-racing nerves as she knocks on her dad's apartment door. Just three hours ago, she was finishing up her involvement in an undercover operation that turned out to be the biggest bust in 15 Division's history.

She's still wired from the adrenaline and fear – fear of screwing up the operation, fear of being made before they could arrest anybody, and most of all, fear for Sam. When Sam left with Angel, her heart skipped a beat and then started running double-time. It wasn't so much because she was scared for him - though she most definitely was - but more because she could practically count on one hand the number of times in the past six months that she wouldn't be there to watch his back.

The five minutes after hearing "_Shots fired!_" over the radio, followed by the report of a single casualty, might as well have been five years considering how time seemed to slow. Hearing his voice a split second after realizing the body under the tarp wasn't him, being able to confirm that he still was among the living, had brought the world back into sharp focus and it had taken all of her self-restraint to keep from commanding him to strip to prove that he really was unharmed.

Tommy opens the door, slightly bleary-eyed, as if he was still asleep when she knocked, and seems to be more than a little confused. "Andy?"

"Hi, Dad," she replies. "Did I wake you up?" A quick look down at her watch reveals that it's only six in the morning, and that she's been rhythmically tapping her hand against her leg with leftover nervous energy.

"No, Sweetheart, come on in. I just got up; want some coffee?"

Coffee on top of her still jittery nerves is a bad, bad idea. "No thanks, Dad. I'm still a little wound up."

"I see that. What's going on?"

"We, uh, we took down Bergan and the Landrys tonight. Big sting operation that started with me screwing up an undercover op yet again."

"Swarek's not still giving you a hard time about that, is he?" Tommy looks skeptical at the notion of the hot-headed but unconventional cop he'd known holding a grudge this long. Especially given the way Swarek had nearly put everything on the line just last month in trying to help Andy prove Tommy innocent of murder.

"No, no, I think he's pretty much over it. Tonight he gave me a compliment on it, actually, which was kind of weird, but…" Andy trails off, lost in her train of thought.

"…But, what?" Tommy prompts.

"Dad, why does Sam keep trying to push me towards Luke every time I start to step back?"

Tommy blinks at the sudden change in subject but can't stop the chuckle that erupts from deep in his chest. "Sweetheart, I'm not exactly the best person to ask, but it seems to me that Swarek wants you to be happy – and apparently he thinks that Callaghan makes you happy. I wonder where he got that idea?" he adds pointedly and watches with a smile as his only child turns bright pink. "Andy, why are you pushing it so hard with Callaghan anyway?"

"I don't know!" she moans and flops down on the couch. "I'm tired of falling for the wrong guys; I'm tired of having to pick up the pieces every time I start to open up and they leave. I wanted to be smart about it all for once! Because I knew that if I really let myself love Sam, I'd never recover when he left. Luke is safe. Sam is… _not_."

"Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but if Swarek was going to leave, he'd have done it when you started seeing Callaghan. So the question you should be asking yourself isn't why does he keep pushing you towards Callaghan, but why do you keep letting him?"

Tommy leaves his daughter alone to consider that while he retrieves a package from the kitchen table. "By the way, this was delivered here yesterday for you."

Andy is instantly distracted and takes the medium-sized box from him. It's about eighteen inches high and wide, and around three inches deep, but the weird thing is that it's addressed to her at Tommy's address.

Which is… odd. She hasn't lived with her father in almost ten years, so why on earth has something been sent to his apartment for her?

The return address identifies a community college out west as the sender. Curiosity piqued, Andy slits the tape with a pair of scissors Tommy grabs from the kitchen and opens the box. Inside is a binder containing what looks to be material for a distance-learning course on Business Ethics for Financial Managers, a textbook for the same, and a letter thanking her for enrolling in the class.

Andy skims through the introductory letter – fairly straightforward – and opens the binder. Tucked into the cover pocket is another letter, this one handwritten in a neat, precise script.

"_Officer McNally (and Sam)_," the note reads, "_First, I want to apologize for taking so long to get this to you. It took a while to find a place to settle down, and then to set up what I'm about to tell you._

"_Secondly, I want to tell how grateful I am to you and Sammy. While Sam had promised to help me with a fresh start, you were under no obligation to assist him or me. Despite him behaving like a typical male by putting you in the middle of our little operation, and doing his best to make you miserable, you still came through for him and, by extension, me._

_Back to my original point: the key enclosed opens something that has been concealed behind the mini-fridge in a suite at the Fairmont Chateau Laurier in Ottawa, which has been reserved for you both for this coming weekend. Inside, you'll find the files you need to close the investigation. Don't worry about finding me as a witness, I'll be watching and waiting for my turn on the stand._

_Good luck and thanks again,_

_E.S."_

Andy bolts off the couch as if electrified. "Sorry, Dad, I gotta go!" She shoves everything back into the box it came in and tucks it under her arm.

Looking more than a little bemused, Tommy watches his daughter bolt for the door. "Andy, what's wrong?"

"I'll tell you later!" With that, she's gone – he can hear her clattering down the stairs as she races for the street.

"Go get 'em, Copper," Tommy murmurs proudly, closing the door behind his offspring. She's unconventional, thanks in no small part to her mentor, but turning into a damned fine cop. And if she manages to hold on to even half of what he knows Swarek has taught her over the past six months, she'll only continue to get better.

Andy hails a cab, justifying the expense as worth it - especially when she considers what Sam would say if he found out that she didn't bring it right over. Her flagging energy levels (what with having been up for almost 24 hours straight combined with the highs and lows of a high-stakes undercover operation) have gotten another boost of adrenaline and she's wide awake now.

After realizing that she had deluded herself into forgetting about the threat Hill presented (and probably still presents), Andy is now in a state of hyper-vigilance, constantly checking behind the taxi for suspicious cars or people. She pays the driver when they arrive at Sam's house and knocks frantically on the door.

For a split second she wonders if he might be asleep, but the door swings open a minute later, disproving that theory. "Andy, what-…? Are you okay?" Distracted as she is by the break in his case, Andy still struggles to keep her eyes on his face – Sam is dressed in only a threadbare pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips, revealing a torso and arms that have only gotten more defined since her last good look at him. He's put a bit of weight on in the past few months and, if the way he's been filling out his shirts lately is any indication, it's all muscle.

She brushes past him, heading for the living room, and shoves the whole package into his arms. "Read this."

Sam quickly ducks into his bedroom to put on a shirt and re-enters the living room, watching her warily as he joins her on the couch. She's all but bouncing in place with barely-concealed excitement, and while he wants to know what has her so worked up, Sam isn't sure he can handle her telling him that Callaghan proposed or something similar.

"McNally, seriously, what's going on?"

She waves expansively with a wide smile. "The answers you seek lie within."

_Eh?_

His unspoken question must have appeared on his face because Andy rolls her eyes at him. "It means 'quit interrogating me and see for yourself'."

Sam does as ordered with another leery glance in her direction, which she ignores. He pulls out the cover letter first and reads it with growing impatience. "You're going back to school, McNally – that's great. But what does this have to do with anything?"

Her exasperated sigh floats over his shoulder as she leans forward to pull out the binder. "Look inside," she says curtly, shoving it into his stomach.

Deciding to humor the crazy person that has taken over his (admittedly rather excitable) rookie's body, Sam obeys and finds the hand-written note within a few seconds. He reads it once – and barely believes his eyes, so he reads it again.

The binder is dropped to the floor as Sam yanks out the textbook and tosses the box aside as well. Fingers trembling, he opens the heavy book and starts flipping. About halfway through, he finds what he's looking for: like something out of a gothic novel, every following page has been painstakingly glued to the next one and a little hollow carved into the center, just big enough to cradle the small silver key that lies within.

Sam holds his breath and carefully lifts the key out, almost afraid that he's dreaming or hallucinating and that it will disappear into thin air-…

A sharp and sudden pinch on his arm rapidly brings his attention back to Andy, still sitting beside him with a gentle smile on her face. "What the hell?" he demands.

Her eyebrow quirks as her smile widens. "You're not dreaming, Sam. She really did come through for you."

The textbook goes flying as Sam pounces on Andy, driving her down on her back as his mouth seals over hers, rivaling the kisses they'd shared the night of the blackout for sheer intensity.

Andy freezes for about half a second, stiff with surprise, but she recovers quickly, sliding her hands around his neck and back as she returns every kiss with a passion that equals his own.

She forgets everything - Anton Hill, Emily, Luke - it's all gone; everything narrows down to just her and Sam, and the way her skin burns everywhere he touches. Sam rips his lips away from hers and scorches a trail of fire across her cheek and jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin and stopping to suckle over her pulse-point.

Andy's back arches involuntarily as her knees come up to cradle his hips. When he moves back up to nuzzle the sensitive flesh under her ear with his lips, she hisses as heat floods her core. Sam draws her earlobe into his mouth to suck and nibble gently on it, lost in the feel, smell, and sound of her; Her sharp cry of pleasure rolls over him as her thighs tighten impossibly around his pelvis. She locks her ankles behind him and _pulls_, pressing the long ridge of his erection to her center, where Andy needs the pressure and friction most.

They both groan when he makes contact and Sam leaves off marking her neck to fuse his lips to hers again. Her tongue curls around his before he can blink, stroking and rubbing and generally making him crazy with need for her.

But she wants more. _Needs_ more. A slight shift of her hips is all the warning Sam gets before she rolls them both right off the couch. There's a thud as they land on the floor, and Sam breaks off the kiss with a groan as all the air in his lungs leaves him in a rush. However, the shock is a wake-up call that he desperately needs before they do something stupid.

While he would never in a million years regret a night spent with Andy, he really doesn't want her to regret spending a night with him. Sam cups his hands around her face and gently pulls her upwards, halting Andy in the process of pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across his collarbones and pectorals through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Andy."

Her innocently inquisitive expression is at odds with the ways her hips roll and rub her center against his rampant erection. He can feel the heat of her through their clothing and it's taking every ounce of his self-control to keep from stripping their clothes off and burying himself deep inside her. "Hmm?"

Sam's head drops back with a hiss of swiftly indrawn breath. "Sweetheart, you gotta stop that." One of his hands drops down to grab her hips, halting their torturous movement. "_McNally_."

His firmer tone of voice finally gets her full attention. She looks into his eyes and, for the first time ever, he drops almost all of his walls. She sees everything: love, desire, hurt, loss, need, and a bit of regret. It's the last that finally brings Andy back to back to earth with a thump. Her cheeks burn with mortification and she tries to scramble off of him, but Sam holds fast.

"I'm sorry, Andy; I shouldn't have started this, shouldn't have put you in this position. You know I'd like nothing more than to take you to the bedroom and finish this," he says finally, letting her read the truth in his eyes, "but you're with Callaghan, and neither of us are cheaters."

Andy lets her forehead drop to Sam's chest as she tries to keep the sudden tears that fill her eyes at bay. He releases her face and uses that hand to gently stroke her back. "Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he insists. "This was my fault – this time I'm the one that jumped you."

"Not just for tonight, Sam; I'm sorry for everything I've put you through," Andy confesses, her voice muffled due to the fact that her face is still pressed against his chest. "At first, I started seeing Luke because he was cute and interested, and he actually _asked_," she adds pointedly with a narrow-eyed glance up at him, to which he makes a sheepish face and shrugs. "And later, it was because he's safe. It's easy to be with Luke, because all he really wants is somebody to talk about work with and keep the bed warm. I mean, he asked me to move in with him because having to spend time arranging a date when he could be working a case is too much effort. Never mind having to get up early to go home if he stays at my apartment. If I'm living with him…"

Andy is in the perfect position to feel every muscle in Sam's body go rigid when she drops the bombshell. "What did you tell him?" Her extraordinarily long pause is answer enough, but Sam needs to hear the words. "Andy?"

Her voice is so faint Sam almost doesn't hear her reply, and immediately wishes he hadn't: "I said 'yes', Sam. I said 'yes'." Her body starts to quiver and shake with suppressed tears and Sam wraps his arms around her. "He's a good man, Sam," she insists.

"I know."

"A good man," Andy repeats, though it sounds more like she's trying to convince herself. "So why don't I love him? Why can't I love him like he deserves?"

Sam decides that he doesn't want to be having this conversation flat on his back on his living room floor; he reaches up and, using his elbow against the coffee table, levers them both upright. He twists them around until his back rests against the couch and then returns his full attention to the woman in his arms. "You're the only one that can answer that question, Andy," he replies finally.

"Luke doesn't mind, or just doesn't care, if I hide parts of myself that I think or know he might not like. It's… safe. I don't have to worry about getting my heart broken when he leaves. But you, Sam-… you wouldn't settle for anything less than all of me. I would be yours, completely, and that terrifies me because while losing Luke will hurt, losing you will kill me."

The words are mumbled into the side of his neck, but Sam hears them loud and clear all the same and his heart leaps. But he also recognizes her absolute terror of opening herself up only to get trampled on; running when things get too close for comfort is her defense mechanism. After her mother ran away and her father all but abandoned her, Andy had sworn that she would never be the one left behind again. Sam also knows that she won't believe him if he promises not to leave – in her experience, everyone leaves sooner or later; it's all just a matter of time.

Sam sighs, enfolding her more tightly in his embrace, and props his chin on the top of her head. "I don't know what to tell you, McNally. This is one decision that you're going to have to make on your own."

"Why does everything have to be so hard, Sam?" She sounds so much like a lost little girl right then that Sam can't resist pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He sighs again and pulls her entirely into his lap, letting her curl up there, wrapped around him, until she's ready to face the world again.

He curses himself for being ten kinds of sucker: she might not ever be ready to face down her fears of a fully committed relationship, but he already knows that he'll wait (mostly patiently) until she is. Until then, he'll settle for helping her pick up the pieces when her world seems to be falling apart.

Finally, he loses all the feeling in his butt and the pins and needles of cut-off blood circulation forces him to nudge her. "Andy, not that this isn't nice and all, but do you think we can do this on the couch? My ass is numb."

She blinks up at him for a second, before she bursts out laughing. Andy reluctantly leaves the warm haven of his arms and stands, holding a hand out to help him up. Sam ignores her and, using the couch and coffee table to brace himself, rises on his own; he can't help the grimace when the tingling intensifies as blood rushes back into his legs. Andy's chuckles explode back into full-out laughter at the look on his face.

Sam merely crosses his arms and fixes her with his best unimpressed glare as he waits her out. In truth it's all he can do to keep a straight face, but his expression sends her into another fit of hysterics every time she so much as glances at him and he's missed hearing her laugh like this, even if it is at his expense.

Eventually Andy calms down, though she's very careful not to look at him for several seconds. "Are we okay?"

Sam rolls his eyes and pulls her into a tight hug. "Yeah, I suppose so."

He doesn't miss the relieved breath she huffs out as her arms wind around him. "Thank you, Sam."

Unseen, he smiles against her shoulder. "Don't mention it." Andy quakes with a snort of suppressed laughter and lightly pinches his side. "No, really - don't mention it."

She releases him after a few minutes – he reluctantly follows suit – and spends several long moments searching his eyes. What she's looking for is known only to her, but she eventually smiles widely and playfully smacks his shoulder. "Now, come on! We have a white whale to arrest!"

Sam is more than a little chagrined to realize that he's forgotten all about Emily and her hidden evidence against Anton but he rallies quickly. After instructing Andy to sit down, he retreats to his bedroom to grab her birthday presents - it's obviously too early, but she'll get more use out of them sooner than later. A glance at his alarm clock reveals that it's already seven o'clock – they've been given permission to clock in late today, as recompense for their very late night, but they'll still have to hustle.

"We'll be staying in the barn today," he announces when he returns to her. "We'll get Frank to rush the paperwork for permission to take your gun this morning, but in the meantime, I want you to wear these _at all times_," he emphasizes with a stern glower. First he hands her an ankle holster sized to hold a small- to medium-caliber pistol, a thigh holster for when she wears a dress, and then another holster that will fit inside the back of her waistband, both also sized for a smaller weapon.

Then, he pulls a medium-sized hard plastic case to rest on his forearms as he opens the lid to reveal a Glock-26 pistol, complete with two spare magazines, a fresh box of ammunition, and everything she needs to maintain it. It's a small 9mm handgun, painted a lethal-looking black, one that was seemingly designed for concealed carry and also happens to be easy to handle in a pinch.

Not that Andy can't handle her regular service weapon just fine, but it's a bit more like a cannon - large and bulky and difficult to conceal - whereas her new handgun is the opposite.

"I mean it, Andy," he says, using her first name as an indication of how serious he is while she quietly admires her present. "From now on, whenever you're not in uniform, you carry this everywhere. And you'd damn well better make sure it's within easy reach even when you're sleeping. We're not taking any chances with this one. Anton may have stopped having me followed a few months ago, but any hint that something's afoot and we'll find ourselves in world of trouble."

She nods and agrees, sensing how important this is to him and how useless arguing will be. Andy accepts the re-closed case and stuffs the keys in her pocket without a word.

Next Sam produces a small, sleek switchblade and flicks the activator; the entire knife has been painted a dull, matte black that makes the twin silvery stripes on the freshly sharpened blade gleam with menace in the early morning light. "Same goes with this," he adds, handing it to her.

Andy makes no move to take it from him. "Aren't those really, really illegal?" she asks skeptically.

He rolls his eyes and forcibly places the knife in her hand. "Emergencies only, McNally. If you wind up having to use it, there will be extenuating circumstances involved. You can even blame me if you want."

Andy makes a face but pockets the knife anyway. "Don't worry, I intend to. Anything else?"

"Yeah, make sure you have workout clothes with you today – we're going to be spending some time in the gym on a fighting-dirty refresher. All the weapons in the world aren't going to save you if you get disarmed and can't use them, so I'm going to teach you some more of those hand-to-hand techniques you keep begging me to show you." Sam chuckles when Andy pumps her fist in a clear 'YES!' gesture. "Now, we're due to be in Frank's office in a little under three hours; that gives us two to grab a quick nap. The guest room's made up," he adds, leading the way and opening the door.

Andy, clutching her new presents in her arms, pauses long enough to plant a swift kiss on his cheek. "You're a prince, Sam."

His answering smile causes his dimples to flash and her stomach to flutter. "That's what they all say. Do you need something to sleep in?"

Andy glances down at her comfortable cotton t-shirt and denim jean combo and shakes her head. "I'm all set. Thanks, Sam."

"Have a good nap, McNally." With another soft smile in her direction, he closes the door and heads for his own room and bed.

* * *

><p>Andy feels like she has only just closed her eyes when she's jolted awake by the sound of a fist pounding on the door.<p>

"Come on, McNally, up and at 'em! We don't have a lot of time to waste here."

Andy flops back on the pillow with a soft groan; her eyes feel gritty, and she knows they're bloodshot with exhaustion. Sam knocks on the door again, apparently unwilling to come in and physically motivate her in case she happens to be in a state of undress – he's noble and all, but a guy can only take so much temptation before he breaks. "I'm up," she calls out tiredly.

She can practically hear his smile through the door as he calls her a liar. "Come on, McNally, the sooner you get up, the sooner we can get coffee."

The promise of vast quantities of caffeine is like a siren call that she's helpless to ignore. Andy rolls out of bed with louder groan of pain – everything aches from her sprint in those totally impractical hooker heels. Then she remembers the flushed feeling that Sam's unguarded (and appreciative) appraisal had given her as he surveyed her legs in them.

"Gonna live?" Sam calls through the door, his amusement palpable.

She stumbles to the door and cracks it open, not caring that she probably looks like she's been run over a few times, glaring at him. Sam, damn him, isn't fazed at all, and grins widely at her. "Good morning, sunshine! Nice of you to join us."

Andy rolls her eyes and shuts the door in his face with a low sound of disgust. She knows that it's probably years of experience that lets him be so generally chipper after a sleepless night that doesn't involve suffering a massive hangover from copious quantities of alcohol, but right now she'd give anything for a soft bed in a dark room and 18 uninterrupted hours.

There's a rustling sound at her feet and Andy looks down to see a brand-new toothbrush still in the wrapper, like the kind given at the dentist's office, slowly appear under the door. She sighs, deciding to forgive him his good mood just this once (and the irony isn't lost on her, either), picks up his peace offering, and reopens the door.

Sam has moved back a few steps and stands before her, gesturing at the bathroom door. "All yours, McNally. Just don't take forever; we still have to stop at your place to pick up your stuff."

Andy flashes him another disgruntled look and shuffles in the direction he indicates, jumping with a squawk of surprise when he smacks her playfully on the rear end. "The hell was that for?" she demands with no little incredulity.

He flashes another smile, complete with dimples, that makes her knees go weak. "Nice drawers, McNally." He turns and saunters towards the kitchen as Andy peers down at her slightly less-than-practical, lacy, black, boy-cut shorts and cotton t-shirt and instantly turns pink from the tips of her ears on down.

Sam chuckles under his breath as he hears her mortified gasp quickly followed by the slamming of the bathroom door. There are days she just makes it too easy. A moment later, he hears the shower start up and realizes that Andy McNally, the girl he's been panting after for months, is in his shower, naked.

In his shower, wet.

Wet and naked, in his shower.

He barely restrains the urge to go offer to wash her back (among other parts) and grips the edge of the counter so tightly his fingers turn white as he breathes deeply and tries to think about anything but the fact that Andy McNally is naked and wet, not 30 feet from him.

Dammit.

_Jerry in a Speedo. Ollie in a Speedo. Jerry AND Ollie in Speedos!_ The impromptu attempt at aversion therapy just isn't working this time, not when Andy McNally is wet and naked in his house.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Andy emerges from the bathroom less than 20 minutes later, without prompting, which Sam is thankful for. He's only just managed to get his hormones under control - if he had to bodily roust her out, he doesn't think he could be held accountable for his actions.

She looks impossibly young like this – features devoid of make-up, wet hair pulled back away from her face into a high bun, wearing a snug pair of jeans and a faded concert t-shirt, barefoot, rubbing her eyes with her fists – and Sam is beyond charmed despite himself.

"Coffee?" she asks hopefully, peering up at him. Broken out of his thoughts, Sam hands her a jumbo-sized travel mug containing that nectar of the gods, doctored perfectly. Andy sips and moans her appreciation. "You always know just how I like it," she beams.

Sam chokes and has to turn away to hide his physical reaction. The woman is Evil Incarnate, pure and simple, and he has to swallow the suggestive retort just begging to be let loose. He feels her hand on his shoulder and turns his head when she asks if he's feeling okay. "Let's get a move on," he gruffly responds instead.

Andy blinks and nods, unsure what brought the mood swing on, but goes to gather her things. She pockets the spectacularly illegal knife for now (with every intention of switching it out for the military-grade knife her dad bought her to celebrate her passing probation) and chooses the waistband holster after a few moments' consideration.

She has it attached to the back of her waistband and is practicing drawing and sheathing her new gun when Sam comes looking for her. He can't stop the smile that appears as he watches her wiggle and contort, trying to get used to the new addition to her wardrobe. "Problem?"

Andy jumps and spins to glower at him. "It feels… _weird_," she complains.

Sam moves farther into the room to help her adjust the holster more comfortably. "I know it does," he commiserates, "but you're going to have to get used to it, sooner rather than later."

"I know!" she retorts indignantly. "I'm just saying, is all; it feels odd."

"Eventually, you'll feel naked without it," Sam says knowingly. And he does – one of the most effective, unobtrusive hiding spots for a handgun that still keeps the weapon within reasonably easy reach is the small of the back. One of his first long-term undercover operations had required him to wear such a holster for days and weeks at a time, and when he finally got back into uniform it had taken ages for him to stop the instinct to reach behind his back for his weapon, even with it attached to his hip.

"Let's hope this doesn't take that long," Andy groans.

Sam watches her draw the pistol a few more times, making sure it's positioned such that she can unsheathe it quickly and smoothly, before he claps her on the shoulder. "Let's get a move on, Rookie." He unearths a sweatshirt for her to wear, both to help hide the holster and to protect her from the unseasonably cool morning.

"What happened to 'Copper'?" Andy grumbles, trailing behind him to the front door. He holds their mugs while she gets her shoes on, and then she returns the favor. It's all very domestic, she reflects, standing on the small porch while he sets the alarm and locks the door.

Strangely, she doesn't feel that sudden thrill of fear and anxiety like she had when Luke asked her to move into the house on the ravine with him. Instead, Sam's house feels…

Comfortable.

Safe.

_Like home_.

* * *

><p>Andy lands flat on her back on the mats, wind knocked out of her, with a groan. Not quite gloating yet, Sam appears in her field of vision, still looking fresh as a daisy, damn him. "Give up yet?" he taunts.<p>

She summons a fierce glare, and swings a leg around to sweep his feet out from under him. Sam, however, has already anticipated that and quickly side-steps out of reach with a grin. Andy overextends her leg and grabs it with a hiss of pain; instantly, he's on his knees by her side and reaching for her injured limb. "Where does it hurt?" he asks, probing her hamstring with gentle fingers.

Andy doesn't quite manage to suppress the shiver that races up her spine at the sensation of his hands on her and grimaces when he shoots her another concerned look. "I'm okay," she grits out.

Unfortunately, her voice is a little breathier than it should be and Sam leans in closer to look her in the eyes. "Are you lying to me?"

A second later, her arm is hooked around his neck and driving his upper body to the floor. Caught by surprise, Sam doesn't resist and she quickly has him pinned face-down with a triumphant laugh. "I win!" she says brightly, straddling his body to hold him down.

"Nice one," Sam agrees approvingly. "Want to let me up now?"

Andy can't resist leaning in so close her bound breasts brush his back to whisper in his ear, "What'll you give me for it?"

Sam barely holds back his moan as heat floods his groin; the effect she has on him should be illegal, he reflects sourly. "Coffee for a week?"

Andy rears back to cross her arms over her chest. "You're going to have to do better than that," she counters after a dismissive "Ha!"

It's the moment he's been waiting for – Sam gets his hands and knees under him and rolls to pitch Andy off him. She tumbles to the side with a squawk of surprise and Sam is quick to follow, pinning her in much the same position except he makes sure to restrain her hands above her head.

Andy squirms, testing his grip, but it's no use; she's not going anywhere until he decides to let her. He's leaning over her back, so close she can feel the heat of his body searing through their clothes and his breath on her neck. Sam's renewed erection is firmly pressed between the rounded globes of her rear, despite their clothing, and she instinctively clenches her buttocks around him.

A muffled growl rumbles through his chest as he leans more of his weight on her back and his hips involuntarily rock into her. Andy releases her breath on a long exhalation, dropping her forehead to rest on the mat; she's completely surrounded by him and totally helpless, and for a cop with intimacy and trust issues it should frighten the bejeezus out of her.

Except for the tiny fact that this is _Sam_, and Andy trusts Sam completely and totally, in a way she's never trusted anyone else. Despite their rocky beginning (not to mention the whole blackout fiasco and aftermath), she doesn't want to be partnered with anyone else.

Somehow, Sam gets her in a way nobody else ever has. It's not so much that he's broken down her barriers, but while she was busy protecting her heart from Luke, Sam found an open window and made himself at home, acting like he'd been there the entire time and she just hadn't noticed.

Andy doesn't know what to do about Sam and her feelings for him, but she has an idea of where to start: first things first, break it off with Luke. Now that she's admitted to herself that she's not in love with him, it not fair to either of them to keep stringing him along, even in the name of protecting herself.

Andy still can't quite believe Sam's selflessness in letting her maintain the charade besides the initial (and justified, she admits privately) outburst of jealousy and hurt feelings, and she regrets the hurt she caused by insisting on keeping him in the 'Friend' column after putting him on ice.

Still, somehow he keeps coming back despite the fact that he'd be perfectly within his rights to wash his hands of her completely after everything she's put him through. The fact that he hasn't yet means more than she has words to fully express.

Sam rocks that steely rod of mystery and temptation into her again, and Andy can't stop her responding flex any more than she can stop breathing. This is dry-humping at its most basic, and yet she's more turned on now than she has been in months of regular sex with Luke. Her nerves are alive and every sensation screams through her veins like fire.

"You're killing me here, Andy," Sam mutters in her ear, cutting off his moan when she clenches around him again in response to feeling his words rumble right through her. Her breasts are so swollen and tender right now, she'll probably come apart if he so much as touches them.

"God, Sam," she whimpers. This is so wrong, she knows – technically she's still in a committed relationship – but nothing has ever felt so _right_.

The distant clang of a locker slamming shut quickly followed by the murmur of multiple voices is like a bucket of cold water being thrown over them. In the space of two heartbeats, Sam is halfway across the room, matching her wide-eyed stare as he backs up. "This is a good spot to take a break," he rasps, recovering somewhat as he clears his throat. "Take ten, McNally." In a flash he's gone, beating a hasty retreat into the locker room.

Andy swallows hard and rises, praying that the flush of her arousal dissipates quickly because now seems like an excellent time for a heart-to-heart with Luke.

She lightly knocks on the frame of Luke's office door, smiling when he looks up from his stack of paperwork. "Hey," he greets easily, sitting back in his chair and noting her lack of uniform. "What brings you here? How come you're not out on patrol?"

She takes that as tacit permission to enter and does so, closing the door behind her. "Just helping Sam tie up a few loose ends from one of his old cases," she says, noting the way his features tighten at the mention of her partner as she sits in his 'visitor' chair. Ever since finding out where she went the night of the blackout and returning from the prisoner transport, Luke has been quietly urging her to change training officers, though he won't explain why. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Not really, but I suppose I can spare a couple for you."

This next part is going to hurt, Andy knows that, so she takes a deep breath and gets right to the point – delaying the inevitable with small talk will just give her the opportunity to chicken out again. "I'm sorry, Luke, but I can't move in with you." There. She said it, and now all that's left is the part where she can't be with him anymore at all.

Luke blinks, patently taken aback. "What?" he sputters. "Why?"

Andy thinks over some of the excuses she's cooked up just for this type of moment: "We're moving too fast", "I'm not ready", "It's not you, it's me", but she finally decides on the truly honest response, "I don't love you, Luke, and I don't think you love me either. I tried, honest to God I did, but you can't build a relationship without trust, and you don't trust me."

"I do so!" he retorts.

"Then what's with the constant comments and questions about Sam if you don't trust me when I'm with him?"

"It's him I don't trust, Andy!" Luke exclaims. "I mean, sure, you shot him down once, but what's to stop him from trying again?"

Andy blinks, befuddled. "What are you talking about?" She can only think of one time she shot Sam down, but that was before she'd even considered getting involved with Luke and therefore was and is none of his business.

Luke sighs with a slight roll of his eyes, like he can't believe she doesn't understand. "I realize I gave you the cold shoulder about the blackout, after your vague non-explanation, but after you got back from the prisoner transport Swarek came and told me what happened – that he came on to you and you shot him down. I can't believe you didn't report him for harassment," Luke adds.

Andy is so stunned she's running on auto-pilot. "Sam said what?" she hears herself ask faintly. Sam Swarek – who, despite his love of undercover work, has the strongest moral compass she's ever seen – _lied_ to help salvage her relationship with someone he doesn't even like, risking a reprimand, suspension or worse if Luke had said something?

Luke, who didn't believe her when she said nothing happened, had believed Sam when he lied through his teeth?

This all could have been avoided two months ago if Sam hadn't meddled?

_That idiot._

It's not until Luke asks what she means that Andy realizes she said the last part aloud. This time she doesn't fumble for an explanation – she knows the truth now, and the truth is that Luke really doesn't trust her, despite his protestations, and this makes things a lot easier. "Luke, Sam lied. I went to him, I kissed him. I was drowning, Luke; I was drowning and you left me behind to dig for bones!"

"You said you were fine!" Luke protested.

"I'd just killed someone, Luke! How can anybody be fine after that?"

"So, what was I supposed to do? Ignore what you said? Take you home and hover all night?" he asks somewhat incredulously.

"_Yes!_"

"It's called compartmentalizing, Andy; that's how cops deal with things." Oh, now he's just being condescending, and her feelings of remorse are rapidly dissipating.

"Oh yeah, you can say that now, after how many years on the force?" Andy asks pointedly. "I've been a cop for _six months_, Luke!" She can't sit anymore, so she stands and starts to pace. "I needed you that night. I needed you to be there when I woke up a dozen times screaming because of a nightmare. I needed you to hold me, and convince me that I did the right thing. I needed you to remind me that Oliver and that little girl would probably be dead if I hadn't killed him. I needed you to be there."

"So you're saying that you going to Swarek is my fault?"

Andy sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose in a gesture that she obviously learned from Swarek as Luke's jaw clenches. "It's not anybody's fault except mine for making the wrong choice in the first place. Goodbye, Luke." Andy opens the office door and slips out, only to come face-to-face with Sam, who seems to have recovered from their encounter in the gym.

"Everything okay?" he asks, glancing over her shoulder to where Callaghan appears to be throwing a temper tantrum – slamming drawers, knocking papers off his desk, and apparently considering his collection of coffee mugs as possible ammunition for target practice.

Andy takes a deep breath, feeling like a weight she didn't know was there has been taken off her shoulders, and doesn't have to force her smile. "Everything's fine," she says blithely. "How are plans coming on our field trip?"

"Good," he responds, walking with her to the locker rooms. She can tell he's a little taken aback by her cheerfulness compared to Luke's current mood, but at least he's willing to play along. "Just as soon as we finish up the reports for last night, we can get out of here and get some actual sleep. Frank's cleared us to head out tomorrow; we'll be driving but the check-in time isn't until three, so we can sleep in. Okay?"

Andy has no problem with that and says so. "Why don't I just camp out in your spare room again tonight and we can leave first thing?" she suggests. She knows she can always nap in the truck if she's still tired, and Andy wants to help Sam catch Anton Hill more than she wants to torture him by dawdling. And, by getting to Ottawa a few hours early, they'll have time to scope out the hotel and its surroundings to make sure they aren't being set up.

Sam looks surprised by her idea, and she supposes she can't blame him. "You sure? What about Callaghan?"

Andy flashes a mysterious smile that she knows drives him nuts. "What about him?" Without another word, she disappears into the locker room. She's about to change when she remembers that she doesn't necessarily need to be in uniform to do paperwork. Rolling her eyes at her own distraction, Andy makes tracks for her desk and the pile of forms that need to be filled out – not only for last night's operation, but for the arrest that precipitated it too.

_Paperwork. Yuck_.

A few minutes after she settles in, a fresh cup of coffee appears in a rare empty spot of her desk before her benefactor sits down across from her. She thanks him, trying not to look too surprised – bribing her out of bed this morning with coffee is a whole lot different than bringing her coffee while technically on duty – and takes a sip, managing to limit her vocal appreciation to a hum.

She doesn't know what kind of witchcraft Sam does, but somehow whenever he makes her coffee it tastes better than when she makes it herself.

Andy thinks she just might have to keep him around on that basis alone.

She opens her eyes and finds Sam is focused entirely on her; the sheer intensity of his gaze makes her squirm in her seat as heat settles low in her belly. Then he blinks and looks away and the moment is lost.

Andy smirks at his lowered head – she has plans for him, oh yes she does, but not before she torments him a little bit more for his meddling. She settles in to the largely mindless task of filling out forms as plots and schemes swirl around her head, enticing her with possibilities and roads not yet taken.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Andy yawns widely as she makes herself comfortable in the passenger seat of Sam's big silver beast of a truck. It's actually after 7:00a.m., but with their sleep deprivation it feels like it might as well be 3:00 or 4:00 – and with rush hour already in full-swing the five-hour drive will get worse, even with Sam driving like he usually does.<p>

Sam settles behind the wheel and starts the engine while Andy buckles her seatbelt and leans the side of her head against the cool glass of the window, wishing she'd thought to grab a pillow. She considers the lines of exhaustion on his face, knowing that she doesn't look any better after waking from nightmares half a dozen times throughout the night.

When she woke screaming from the third one, Sam had given up all pretenses and simply climbed into the bed with her, holding her while she slept and soothing her when she started dreaming again. Considering that most of the dreams revolved around Sam being killed instead of Angel, having him right there beside her to prove he was whole and unharmed did more to calm her fears than anything else.

"Thank you for staying with me last night," she says quietly.

His hand comes up to cover her knee and she looks at him in time to catch the earnest expression in his eyes. "You're welcome. I'm glad you didn't try to tough it out on your own." Andy can feel the heat of his hand through her jeans and she moves her own hand to cover his, entangling their fingers. As always, that ping of awareness that she feels every time he touches her sings through her veins, but it's accompanied by a rush of warmth in her chest.

Nobody affects her like Sam does – nobody else can make her want to jump him and strangle him all at the same time. When Sam gets violent on her behalf, Andy has the simultaneous urge to both tell him to go to hell because she can take care of herself, and strip him naked and jump him because Sam the Defender and Sam the Protector are really, really HOT.

Just thinking about the way Sam's eyes flash and his biceps flex when he's pissed off makes Andy's nipples perk and she has to shift back into the seat to try to hide her physical reaction. That move backfires when the sweatshirt she never got around to returning yesterday releases a whiff of the scent that Andy associates purely with Sam: a combination of soap, leather, clean laundry, a touch of sandalwood from his aftershave, the barest hint of musk, all overlaid with something that seems to be purely Sam.

She could smell him for days and never get tired. The only thing better would be kissing him because Sam is so good at it that it's a wonder her underwear doesn't spontaneously combust whenever he's nearby.

Sam disengages his hand from hers so he can shift the truck into gear and start their road-trip. Their comfortable silence is broken only by the radio playing quietly in the background. Ten minutes after Sam merges onto the 401 Andy is fast asleep, snuggled deep into his sweatshirt, her neck craned at an uncomfortable-looking angle as her head rests against the window..

He pulls onto the shoulder, hazard lights blinking, and parks the truck so he can help her: he unfastens her seatbelt, carefully letting it retract, and lifts the console between them so he can guide her to lie down next to him. Andy complies with a soft murmur, settling on her side and facing the windshield, tucking her feet up on the seat, and her hands under her chin. Her head finds Sam's leg, and she nestles comfortably onto his thigh, humming her approval of the new position.

He decides to leave her be with a mental shrug, and puts the truck back into gear, merging back into traffic. After setting the cruise control, Sam settles in for the long drive and lets his right hand drift down to play with Andy's hair, occasionally stroking down her arm when she shifts restlessly and whimpers in her sleep.

Glancing down at her, he's caught off-guard by the sudden image of Andy in the same position, only her left hand gleams with a modest wedding set and her right hand protectively cradles a belly that is full and round and heavy with child. And Sam, who has always preferred a bachelor's existence with his job and undercover assignments, finds himself wanting it with such ferocity that his chest actually aches.

Sam's inner masochist led him to help Andy with Callaghan and he had started to prepare himself to pretend to be happy for her and the Happily Ever After she was chasing with such single-minded determination, but now that she's given Golden Boy the heave-ho he's not about to squander the unexpected second chance.

He let Andy rebuff him once, screwed up what he thought was a second chance but was really only a scared, desperate woman trying to drown out the voices and screams in her head while her boyfriend was MIA, and tried to resign himself to just being her friend and agony aunt while she stumbled her way through her first attempt at a serious, committed relationship.

Andy is his now (whether she realizes it or not) and he's never going to let her go.

Sam finishes his coffee and starts in on Andy's after a moment's consideration. It's not how he usually takes it, but at this point caffeine is caffeine, and her falling asleep makes it fair game as far as he's concerned. As the hours and kilometers pass by, he entertains himself by leap-frogging around other cars and playing around with the speed limit – going fast enough to shave some time off the journey, but not so fast as to attract attention from some bored but zealous Mountie on speed trap duty.

Andy wakes more than halfway into the trip but seems content where she is, rolling onto her back and smiling groggily up at him. "Time is it?" she asks, voice husky with sleep as she yawns.

Sam checks the digital display and flashes his dimples down at her. "Just past eleven," he responds, answering her next question with, "we've still got about two hours to go."

Andy hums under her breath as she takes the information in and relaxes against him. She reaches up and fumbles blindly for the volume control, turning it up a bit louder, before turning her head and nestling back into his thigh with a contented sigh. Her feet twitch and bounce with the beat of the music – Sam and Andy compromised earlier on radio station choice and settled on one that claimed to play "anything", thus satisfying both their musical preferences – and Sam settles the hand that had been playing with her hair in the curve between her neck and shoulder, thumb stretching around to gently stroke the soft skin under Andy's ear. The warm, solid weight of his hand keeps Andy grounded and lulls her back into a semi-doze.

For quite possibly the first time ever, they are content with themselves and each other, the cab of the truck providing a cocoon of peace and safety, and neither feels the need to fill the silence with talking. Eventually, though, the explosive attraction between them slips under Andy's skin and she has to speak before she does something… unwise.

Like turning over and discovering just how good Sam is at multi-tasking.

"I broke up with Luke yesterday," she announces.

Sam doesn't bother to look down, lest she see the flash of triumph in his eyes. "I figured," he responds. "You know, what with that whole temper tantrum he threw when you left his office yesterday, and the constant glares afterwards."

Andy rolls her eyes and reaches up to pinch his arm in retaliation. In a flash, the hand Sam has on her neck goes from soothing to tormenting as he uses it to tickle her; she giggles and squeals, batting at him when he moves to dig his fingers into her sides. "Keep your eyes on the road!" she admonishes as she retreats to the far side of the seat. "_Sam_!"

Sam flashes his dimples at her, laughing softly as he teasingly reaches for her again. Andy squawks and slaps his hand away, yelping again when the truck swerves to the right, dangerously close to the next lane. He easily straightens them out again, chuckling under his breath as Andy holds a hand over her heart. "What happened to your inner adrenaline junkie, McNally?"

She scoffs and turns to face the window, obviously giving him the silent treatment as she crosses her arms with a huff. Sam smirks, fully prepared to wait her out – Andy is, as previously established, positively allergic to silence and hasn't yet managed to maintain it for longer than five minutes for as long as he's known her. He makes an internal bet with himself that she won't last any more than three.

Sure enough, only two minutes pass before Andy speaks: "You're an ass." Her tone is matter-of-fact and she's still not looking at him, but he won his bet.

Sam throws her a sidelong glance as he stifles a snort of laughter. "And since when is that a surprise?"

"It's not; I'm just saying: you're an ass."

The corners of his lips twitch as he tries not to laugh in her face. "Glad we got that cleared up."

Andy rolls her eyes at him and reaches to turn the radio's volume up, choking on laughter when Sam starts to sing along to one of her favorite songs in the most obnoxious, high-pitched, off-key voice he can muster. "I changed my mind," she announces over the blasting stereo, "you're actually a jackass!"

* * *

><p>In the end, it's surprisingly easy: they check into the hotel without a problem and are shown to their room, which winds up being a huge suite with a fantastic view of the city. While Andy admires the parquet flooring and chandelier, Sam checks out the bedroom with a sneaking suspicion that is rapidly deepening in his gut and swears violently and loudly.<p>

"What's wrong?" Andy asks, distracted from her investigation of the rest of the suite.

"I'm gonna kill her," he vows.

"Sam?"

"The little witch booked us into a room with only one bed."

Andy is glad he's still looking into the bedroom and not facing her when her stomach clenches and her expression goes blank at the possibilities.

"Guess I'll flip you for it," he adds, digging in his pocket for a coin.

Andy swallows hard and forces herself to speak up, "We're both adults, aren't we?" Her voice is husky and she can literally see him go rigid before he turns around.

"McNally? Are you suggesting…?" His eyes are shuttered, but Andy can just make out the hope and surprise he's trying so desperately to hide.

"I'm just saying that the bed is really big!" she adds as she moves up next to him to take in the bedroom, which is dominated by the massive king-size bed. "But, you know, if you don't think you can control yourself, by all means sleep on the couch."

She's baiting him and he knows it as she smirks at him, but one thing Sam finds next to impossible to resist is a challenge.

Especially when it's a challenge issued by a certain former rookie.

He's not about to give in that easily, though: "Shouldn't I be the one worried about being molested in my sleep, McNally?" He watches with satisfaction as her jaw drops and the tips of her ears turn pink while she nearly chokes on her own spit.

"Sam! I – that is – um, I – you know-…" she sputters, her blush spreading to her cheeks and down her neck. When he cracks a grin and starts chuckling under his breath at her, she scowls and slugs him in the shoulder.

Hard.

"You're an ass," she declares again, spinning on her heel and stalking away, farther into the bedroom. Inwardly, though, she's glad that he seems to have forgiven her for her temporary lapse in judgment the night of the blackout, and the events thereafter – at least to the point that he can tease her about the way she jumped him that night.

Out of everything that she regrets about her actions over the past six months (including busting him to begin with), Andy is most ashamed of the way she deliberately ignored his (and her own) growing feelings; she knew just by the way he kissed her back that night that it was more than just hormones – the sheer intensity of his response to her, and her response to his response, had scared her so badly that she'd gone running back into Luke's arms without even trying all that hard to make Sam understand, an action that just gets more cruel and cowardly the more she thinks about it.

"I am sorry, you know," she murmurs, not looking at him.

She can almost sense him turning to look at her, his eyes narrowed just a bit with speculation. "For coming over that night?"

"No. I have a lot of regrets about the last few months, but I've never regretted going to see you that night. I was drowning and you were there, like always. What I am sorry for is that I let fear of my emotions and how you affect me drive me back to Luke and my comfort zone. And I'm most sorry for hurting you."

Just thinking about it is making her voice tremble and her eyes tear up, but Andy tries to discreetly wipe them away with her fingers as male hands cup her shoulders, drawing her back against the hard, muscled body she's tried hard to not notice as Sam leans his forehead against the back of her head. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole when you came back." His breath whispers across the nape of her neck, raising gooseflesh in its wake. "I was hurt and jealous, and that made me angry, and so I lashed out at you. It was a nasty shock to walk in that morning and find out from Callaghan that you were still together and running off for a romantic, lake-side sleepover."

Andy closes her eyes, trying not to curse Luke and his own brand of unintentional meddling. "The sad part is I didn't really want to go – I was trying to tell him when he told me that you said I was all his. I thought it meant that you had decided you weren't interested in dealing with me and my baggage after all."

Sam castigates himself up and down for being such a stupid, stubborn, jealous idiot, wishing like hell that he'd thought things through and just _talked_ to her that day instead of letting wounded feelings and dented pride do the talking for him. "You don't know how sorry I am for that, Andy."

"How did we let things turn into such a mess, Sam?"

His arms wrap tightly around her, hugging her to him, as he moves his head to rest it alongside hers. They're both stubborn, prideful people with razor-wire fences put up around their hearts. It's not in their natures to let anybody else see them flinch and the night of the blackout they both had. The fallout and aftermath had involved much backpedaling and ass-covering, trying like hell to put their masks back in place.

"I wish I knew, Andy."

At some point she turns in the circle of his arms and winds her own around him, burying her face in his neck as they just breathe each other in. Neither knows how much time has passed when they finally pull apart, and, even though Andy's eyes are red-rimmed, she's perfectly calm; for all that he delights in winding her up, Sam is the only person that truly can ground her when things are flying out of control.

His hands come up to cup her face as he presses a kiss to her forehead. "We'll be okay, Andy. I promise." Sam is about 99.9-percent sure that she's it for him, his one-and-done, but that could also be the allure of forbidden fruit talking, for all he knows. He's never felt like this before, and how many other dumb schmucks has he seen that finally made a move on the girl they've been pining for who is suddenly single - only to find out that most of the attraction was simply the thrill and chase of wanting something they couldn't have?

So, he and Andy are going to take their time so they can both be sure that he's not simply a rebound; in the meantime, he's going to have his hands full trying to prove to her that she is cut out for long-term relationships, and that all her previous failures have been more a habit of trying too hard with the wrong guys.

Callaghan included.

The smile she flashes is small but it lights up the room as she steps away. "Aren't we supposed to be looking for a fridge?"

Sam understands and doesn't try to stop her – until she figures out for herself that he'll never willingly leave her, it will be a constant dance of two steps forward, one step back. He gives Andy the space she needs to regain her equilibrium and watches as she playfully taps a finger on her chin while glancing around the suite, features alight with mischief.

"So," she says, her tone too teasing to be truly contemplative, "if I was a mini-fridge in this place, where would I be hiding?"

Sam is more than happy to play along and groans theatrically as he rolls his eyes. "Not more of that 'What Kind of Tree Would I Be?' crap?"

Andy ignores him and heads for the wardrobe in the bedroom with a shrug – she sincerely doubts that it's there but they've got to start some place. Unsurprisingly, she strikes out and Sam would help her look but he's honestly too fascinated by watching her as she looks around, easily following her thought process as she tries to figure out where the hotel might have hidden the fridge.

She methodically picks her way through the suite, gradually getting more and more irritated the longer Sam stares at her instead of helping. "Feel free to pitch in any time," she says with more than a little asperity.

He grins at her and sits on the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands. "That's okay; I think you've got it covered. Besides, think of it as more practice for searching a house for evidence."

It's Andy's turn to roll her eyes, though she's quietly amazed at how Sam manages to turn almost anything into a learning opportunity, contrived or not. If she was with Oliver, she might consider razzing him about laziness and rookie slave labor.

Sam, though, has gone out of his way to teach her his methods and shortcuts, to introduce her to his contacts and to make her known to those that have gone to him for help in the past and might again. He explained it as giving them a backup in case he goes undercover again and can't help if they need it, though Andy knows that's only part of the story.

She has a sneaking suspicion that he's including her in the Circle of Trust if and when he goes under again and can't call for backup using any of the usual means. It means that he's depending on her to be his backup if things go south.

While she's on the topic, Andy still can't decide which side of the fence she wants to be on should Guns & Gangs decide they want Sam back again and he goes: does she want to go under with him, so she can keep watching his back, or stay on the outside to be part of the cavalry if he needs it? She can't deny that the Bergan/Landry bust was a huge rush, but would she be able to live that life for months on end?

She glances back at Sam, who looks ridiculously appealing as he lounges on the giant bed, calm and relaxed and still watching her with a smile that goes all the way to his eyes, and thinks that she just might be able to do it as long as he's with her.

Andy fights down the desire to abandon the search for Emily's evidence to jump him. After just getting out of a semi-serious relationship, the idea of rushing straight into one with Sam reeks of rebounds and nasty rumors of being the Division's bicycle. She sneaks another look at Sam and knows that as long as he's still with her at the end of the day, anything else will be worth it.

Five minutes of searching later Andy doesn't bother to stifle her crow of success upon finally finding the elusive bar-fridge. The key has been included in their check-in package, but they're not interested in the contents just yet. After a quick struggle and much cursing, she manages to work the fridge out of its cubby just far enough to peer around the back.

Carefully duct-taped to the back of the bar-fridge is a slim but sturdy-looking steel lockbox. Andy peels the tape away and sets their prize on the floor beside her before replacing the fridge in its custom cupboard. She picks the box back up and shakes it lightly next to her ear as she joins Sam on the bed.

He's given up the redolent posture and reaches into his jeans pocket for his keys, removing the newest key from the ring as Andy seats herself next to him and holds the box out, lock facing him.

It's the moment of truth and they both suck in identical breaths and hold them as Sam fits the key in the lock and turns it. There's an almost silent click and the lid suddenly pops up a bit, startling them both. Sam glances in Andy's eyes, noting the aura of tense anticipation that matches his, and slowly lifts the lid, careful of any booby-traps in case this is all a huge set-up.

Lying inside, safely ensconced in a bed of black foam, are two small, silver USB drives. Andy watches as Sam lifts them out, assuming that one holds the actual files while the other has the encryption key. She also has a sneaking suspicion that the drive containing the encryption key is also encrypted or password-protected itself.

Sam removes the drives from the protective padding and takes the lockbox from her before she heads back into the main salon to grab the laptop they brought along. She returns to find him, knife in hand, poking and prodding at the foam lining, trying to find a weak spot where it might be pulled away from the metal, hopefully to reveal the password for the encryption key.

They both freeze when they hear the almost silent clink of metal against glass and Sam gingerly pries the foam away from the front of the box to reveal a small, thin glass vial filled with a clear liquid lying on top of a folded piece of paper. Andy boots up the computer as Sam slowly slides the surprisingly thick paper (a childhood spent trying to cheer his sister up lets Sam reliably identify it as flash paper) out from under the vial of what is probably some type of oxidizer and opens it up to reveal a long, complicated string of letters and numbers written neatly in pencil.

It's apparent that if anybody else discovered the box and tried to open it without the actual key, the vial would break and the chemical inside would ignite the paper, making the USB drives all but useless.

Andy picks up the drives and plugs them into the laptop, which eventually prompts her for passwords. She shrugs and picks one of the two dialog boxes to key in the password that Sam carefully recites, feeling the need to cross her fingers and close her eyes before pressing 'OK'.

Not only does it fail, but they get a warning message that only two more incorrect passwords will be tolerated before it locks itself down forever. She winces and opens the other dialog box, repeating the process.

Success! A new window pops up and reveals the contents of the key drive: a single executable file. Well, in for a penny in for a pound, and all that, so Andy opens the file. It runs quickly, opening and closing windows faster than they can blink, and asks for the password another three times before it consents to unlock the drive with all the evidence on it.

All told, it looks fairly innocuous – a handful of electronic files, mostly spreadsheets, and a video file titled 'ME FIRST', which Andy opens after a moment's hesitation. The video quality isn't the greatest, grainy and a touch blurry, and anything in the background that might be used to identify the location has been removed, but the woman facing the camera is unmistakably Emily Starling.

She looks better than the last time Andy and Sam saw her – her black eye and cut lip have healed, her hair is longer, and she appears to be wearing better clothes (based on what they can see of her shoulders and upper chest). The dark circles of stress have disappeared from under her eyes, and she looks almost... happy.

Sam shuffles closer to Andy to get a better look of the screen, and she obligingly shifts the computer so that it shares their laps as Emily starts to speak: "_Hi, Sammy and McNally_," she says with a little wave and a smile. "_As you can see, I didn't forget about you and what you did for me. I'd apologize for leading you on this scavenger hunt, but you have no idea how much fun it was to set it all up!_

"_You've probably guessed that our little relocation plan worked, but I'm not going to tell you where I am. Just know that I'm safe, gainfully and legally employed, and I'll be watching and waiting to take my place on the stand when Anton goes to trial._

"_The room is paid for, so don't worry about a thing - order all the room service and pay-per-view movies you want and charge it to the room. You're booked in there for two nights, but of course you don't have to use them. I know I probably made things a little difficult in asking you to drop everything to come here. I'd better wrap this up, but not before I say this:_ _McNally, throw poor Sam a bone, would you? I know he's annoying and way too self-assured, but you two are good for each other._

"_Take care of yourselves, and each other, you two. A connection like yours only comes along once in a lifetime. Believe me, I know_," she adds with a wry grin, holding up her left hand to reveal a modest engagement ring adorning her ring finger. "_I'll see you guys around. Be good._"

The video ends as a male hand moves into the frame to take hold of Emily's and she smiles gently at the owner. Andy comes back to herself to realize that she leaned her head on Sam's shoulder while watching, and straightens while clearing her throat. "So, uh-..."

"Why don't you email those files to yourself, me, and Frank," Sam suggests.

He doesn't have to explain his reasoning to her; Andy knows that if something happens to them or the drive, there will still be electronic copies that Anton and his men won't be able to get their dirty hands on. She hooks the laptop up to the hotel's wireless internet connection and sends the emails and files out with a politely-worded request to Best to get moving on the evidence before she and Sam make it back to town.

She also adds that the room has been paid for a two-night stay in the hotel, and it seems a shame to turn down such generosity, so she's calling in personal days for her and Sam for the next two days.

Frank's response arrives a few minutes later as Andy and Sam are perusing Emily's evidence – he seems to be more amused than anything else, and simply asks them to make an appearance in his office whenever they make it back to town; she chortles with her own amusement and shows Sam the email. "Looks like you're all mine for the next two days!" she exclaims brightly.

"Well, McNally, since you arranged for this mini-vacation, what do you want to do first?" Sam rumbles back, his eyes dropping involuntarily to her lips.

Andy's about to say "Sightseeing!" when her stomach rumbles loudly; Sam blinks at her for a second before he bursts out laughing and she can feel her cheeks get hot with embarrassment.

"Food it is!" he pronounces as he takes the laptop from her and stows it safely away back in their luggage, before coming back to herd her towards the door. "Let's get some food into you before you decide to take a bite out me instead."

He really shouldn't have left her such an opening and Andy just can't resist the reply that springs to her lips, "While you are definitely good enough to eat, I was thinking more along the lines of some nibbling, and maybe a lick or two. But, y'know, if you really want to be bitten...?"

She keeps walking, struggling to maintain a straight face when Sam stops dead with an arrested expression on his face. He recovers quickly, but his eyes are so heated that it makes her insides clench and her underwear get damp. "Not really a fan of bites," he murmurs in her ear when he catches up, "but you really can't go wrong with a good set of claw marks."

It's Andy's turn now to grind to a sudden halt as Sam smirks and she swallows hard. _Whoa, Nellie, I've created a monster_.

He reverses and hooks an arm around her shoulders to propel her forward again. "Coming?"

_Not yet_.

* * *

><p>Fine Part 1 of 2<p> 


	5. Takedown - Part 2

**Author's Notes:** This is the final installment in "You Can Let Go". Once again, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your patience. I hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I'm returning them to the sandbox right after this.

* * *

><p><em>Last time:<em>

_"Well, McNally, since you arranged for this mini-vacation, what do you want to do first?" Sam rumbles back, his eyes dropping involuntarily to her lips._  
><em>Andy's about to say "Sightseeing!" when her stomach rumbles loudly; Sam blinks at her for a second before he bursts out laughing and she can feel her cheeks get hot with embarrassment. <em>  
><em>"Food it is!" he pronounces as he takes the laptop from her and stows it safely away back in their luggage, before coming back to herd her towards the door. "Let's get some food into you before you decide to take a bite out me instead."<em>  
><em>He really shouldn't have left her such an opening and Andy just can't resist the reply that springs to her lips, "While you are definitely good enough to eat, I was thinking more along the lines of some nibbling, and maybe a lick or two. But, y'know, if you really want to be bitten...?"<em>  
><em>She keeps walking, struggling to maintain a straight face when Sam stops dead with an arrested expression on his face. He recovers quickly, but his eyes are so heated that it makes her insides clench and her underwear get damp. "Not really a fan of bites," he murmurs in her ear when he catches up, "but you really can't go wrong with a good set of claw marks."<em>  
><em>It's Andy's turn now to grind to a sudden halt as Sam smirks and she swallows hard. Whoa, Nellie, I've created a monster. <em>  
><em>He reverses and hooks an arm around her shoulders to propel her forward again. "Coming?"<em>  
><em>Not yet.<em>

**Takedown (2/2)**

After an excellent early dinner in one of the restaurants downstairs, they retreat back to their suite for some relaxation time. Now that they have all day tomorrow to explore to Andy's heart's content, neither feels the need to go out when they have time to recover from the past few days. Andy digs the laptop out again – this time to play a few games – while Sam channel-surfs for something decent to watch and they easily arrange themselves comfortably on the sofa.

This kind of dynamic is new to Andy – she's not used to spending so much time fully clothed with a man she's so attracted to without doing everything she can think of to get him naked – and she attributes this level of comfort to the many, many hours spent in the same squad car, honestly getting to know him without the distraction of sex.

He's fairly close-lipped about his past, other than a brief insight here and there – like when he told her about Sarah and her attack, his motivations for going to the police academy rather than anywhere or anything else he could have done – but those things are mostly details. Andy _knows_ Sam, she knows every expression on his face, knows what he's thinking just by the look in his eyes, can identify just how pissed off he is by how hard his hands and jaw are clenched, knows that when he goes utterly still and his voice goes flat and that vein in his temple starts to throb that it's time to duck and cover.

And Sam knows the same sorts of things about her, which is why they make such a formidable team. Andy is struck by the thought that over the past six months of being work partners, they've managed to almost completely bypass that getting-to-know-you BS that accompanies the first few weeks and months of dating.

They already know all the really important stuff, the rest is just details, which explains why it's so easy for Andy to settle mostly sideways on the couch, leaning her back into Sam's side as he lifts his closest arm to make a comfortable spot for her to rest in without comment or demur.

After a few hours of mind-numbing television, the long drive catches up with Sam and he finds himself yawning more and more frequently. Eventually, he can't take it anymore and rises to stretch with a monster yawn; Andy watches, a bit put out that her backrest has been taken away, but not too annoyed since his t-shirt is also riding up to expose a strip of smooth, lightly tanned skin that she has the sudden, insane desire to lick.

"I'm going to bed," he says, as if she hasn't already figured that part out. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her brow, "Don't stay up too late."

Andy is surprised by the abrupt and unsolicited display of affection, but she isn't about to complain any time soon. She recovers in time to wrinkle her nose at him, and teasingly say, "Yes, Daddy."

Sam makes a face at her – he feels a lot of things for her, and none of them are in the least bit paternal – and heads into the bedroom to get ready for bed. He normally sleeps naked, but having a female that he is most certainly not having sex with (yet) sleep nearby has temporarily halted that habit, and he changes into a pair of soft, well-worn, flannel pajama pants before going to brush his teeth in the obscenely large bathroom.

He climbs into the huge bed, a bit frustrated by the fact that the foot faces the door and he thus can't sleep on the side closest to it, and slowly drifts off to the soft sounds from the television, muffled by the bedroom door, in the background.

Andy doesn't last too much longer now that her warm, comfortable backrest has gone to bed, and turns the TV off less than an hour later. She leaves the laptop plugged in to recharge the battery and makes sure that their cell phones are also charging before stealing into the bedroom as quietly as she can.

Sam is a self-acknowledged light sleeper, especially when it comes to unexpected sounds and intruders, so Andy is positively shocked when he seems to instinctively realize that the person sneaking in is just her and merely rolls over. She collects her sleep-clothes and toiletries from her bag and heads into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed.

She's almost finished her night-time rituals when she hears an unusual sound coming from the bedroom. It's like a groan mixed with a whimper and it makes her frown as she tries to figure out what it could be. It's only when she hears her own name combined with a loud "No!" that Andy realizes that Sam is having a nightmare and she finishes braiding her hair as rapidly as she can. She's tying it off when she opens the door; the bathroom light illuminates the bedroom and makes Sam's thrashing form clear.

Andy turns the light off, knowing that she's probably not going to get another chance to, and hustles to the bed, leaning over him as she touches his face and shoulders. And promptly gets knocked on her ass by a flailing arm.

_Okay, then_. She knows it's time to abandon the subtle approach and times her next move carefully – during the next opening he gives her, Andy not only jumps on the bed but on Sam too, lying full-length on top of him as she curls her fingers around the back of his head. "Sam? Sam, listen to me," she murmurs in his ear as his thrashing already starts to wane.

"I'm right here, Sam, you protected me. I'm okay, I'm fine. Are you listening to me, Sam? What are you seeing?"

"Dead," he grits out, and she really doesn't like the broken sound of his voice.

"Me, dead? By who; with what?"

A tear escapes the corner of his eye, coursing down the side of his head to dampen her hand. "Shot," he says finally. "The pedophile."

Andy lets her head drop to the pillow and considers her options - curing him of the fear of her being shot is a lot simpler than if he'd been dreaming of Ray Swann - and eventually decides on urging him to roll over with her so he's the one on top, and she arranges them so that his dark head rests on her chest, with his ear resting directly over her heart. "Listen to my heartbeat, Sam. Can you hear it?"

He's already calming, his breaths slowing, and she can feel his muscles gradually relax as she tenderly strokes his hair and down his back. Andy grabs his left hand and places it next to his nose on the smooth, unmarred skin of her upper chest. "Feel it, Sam; look, no bullet holes. You saved me, Sam, even if you don't think so. You're always saving me, especially from myself."

Sam's hand twitches as the fingers gently palpate her flesh, feeling the unmarked skin. Andy can tell that he's already drifting back off, having confirmed for himself that she is whole and hale, and knows that since he never came fully awake he probably won't remember this come morning. She wriggles a little bit, trying to find a comfortable position with Sam's bulk weighing her down. He's heavy with muscle, having regained the weight he lost while undercover (since it's rather difficult to be a believable drug addict who's one missed rent payment away from being on the street that doesn't lose weight over time), but Andy is so glad to be the comforter for once, instead of the comfortee, that she'll let him use her as a pillow for as long as he'll allow it.

Andy has never been a cuddler - she's rather like most men in that respect in that she gets what she wants with no messy emotions to screw things up - but for the first time ever, the weight of somebody else (that isn't currently pounding her into the mattress) is reassuring, and she follows Sam into the arms of Morpheus with speed.

When Andy wakes, she's lying on her side with Sam spooned tightly behind her. A weight rests across her body and closer investigation proves that it's his arm, and a warm palm is cupping her breast through her tank-top. She grins and stretches, unconsciously rubbing her behind into Sam's impressive case of morning-wood. Behind her, Sam takes a deep breath and flexes the hand holding her breast as he hugs her more closely to him.

A sigh gusts across the back of Andy's neck, raising gooseflesh in its wake, and Sam husks her name before leaning in to very lightly nuzzle the exposed skin of her shoulder.

Several things happen at once: Andy stiffens like a board, her nipples pebble into tightly furled buds, her head leans to one side of its own volition to give him more room to play, and heat starts to rapidly pool in her lower belly. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if her panties just burst into flames.

Sam uses his nose and lips to nuzzle his way up and down the side of her neck and the top and back of her shoulder while Andy shivers with drowsy delight, arousal simmering through her veins. She's distantly aware that they really shouldn't be doing this, but for the life of her she can't remember _why_. Increasingly awake, she shifts restively, rubbing her thighs together to relieve the pressure. (It doesn't work.)

"_Sam_," she hisses between clenched teeth, feeling his erection gently thrust against her bottom. She honestly can't stop herself from thrusting back - it's the gym all over again, but this time they won't be interrupted. Andy rolls onto her back, one hand reaching for the hem of her shirt and the other ready to yank him down into the hottest kiss of his entire life, morning breath be damned.

Only to find empty air and an unobstructed view of the ceiling. _What the hell?_ There's a soft snore to her left and the bed shifts as Sam rolls over to present her with his back.

_...Sonuvabitch._

Here she is, so turned on her underwear is all but soaking, more than ready for earth-shattering sex, and he's asleep?! She aches to be filled by the hard shaft that's been taunting and enticing her since her first brief encounter with it the night of the blackout, to feel his mouth somewhere other than her lips and neck, to have those gun-callused hands stroking naked flesh unimpeded by clothing, and he doesn't even have the decency to be awake when she's ready to seal the deal, as it were.

Andy huffs with aggravation and stalks off to the bathroom for a cold shower. A snuffle from the bed has her turning in time to see Sam shift onto his back, exposing perfect pectorals and abdominals as one of those capable hands comes to rest on his stomach, just above his navel.

Make that an ice bath.

_Bastard._

* * *

><p>Despite her early morning wind-up and subsequent let-down, Andy and Sam spend an enjoyable day together. They have nothing to do and nowhere to be for the first time since they met, and the concept takes some getting used to. After a delicious room-service breakfast they take to the streets, dressed similarly in jeans, t-shirts, sneakers, and black leather jackets. About two blocks from the hotel Sam curves his arm around Andy's shoulders, ignoring her minute twitch.<p>

What he can't ignore, however, is the hand that she slips into the back pocket of his jeans. He glances sharply in her direction but she is very determinedly not looking back at him, though he can see the corners of her lips fighting a smile. Okay fine, if that's the way she's going to play it, let the games begin.

His plan to slowly drive her crazy is simple but effective. Unfortunately for him, Sam fails to take into account that his plan drives him crazy, too. There's hand-holding, touching (and lots of it), squeezing closely together to take pictures of themselves in front of Parliament, feeding each other bites off their plates at lunch, but for Sam the best and worst part is when she drags him into a lingerie store and sits him in the Boyfriend Chair while she models increasingly skimpy and sexy sets of underwear.

He's all but squirming in his seat by the time she deigns to end the torture, and has to concede that she wins this round rather handily, if deviously. Fully dressed again, Andy makes sure that Sam sees her carry his favorite three sets to the register and cocks an eyebrow at him as she pulls out her credit card.

As soon as they exit the store, Sam drags her into the closest alley he can find and almost shoves her back against the wall as his lips fuse to hers. The kiss is aggressive - _he's_ aggressive - and Andy responds with equal ferocity. Just the memory of the hot, dark look in his eyes as he watched her strut around in nothing but lace and silk makes her shiver and fist her hands in his shirt. If he was wearing a tie, it would be wrapped around her hand right now.

Eventually, Sam regains enough of his sanity to rip himself away from her, breathing hard, and his pupils are so dilated that his eyes look black even in the mid-afternoon sunshine. "You wanna go back to the hotel?" he suggests.

Andy steps in and fits her body against his, feeling his erection press into her belly, and cups her hands around the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him sweetly. "A few more hours? I'll be good, I promise."

Sam takes her lips in a kiss that is drugging in its intensity, tangling his tongue with hers and exploring her mouth more thoroughly than her dentist ever does. It's a reminder of what she's asking for a rain-check on, but he doesn't refuse. "The things I do for you, McNally," he teases, his voice husky with barely leashed desire.

"And I appreciate every one of them," Andy proclaims back with the winsome smile of someone who is getting what they want. Sam takes the bag of untold delights and tortures from her and guides her back onto the street, though the only other contact he permits between them is a simple tangling of fingers. She can't blame him; if his hand goes anywhere else she might just explode from sheer unfulfilled _need_.

They continue their exploration of Ottawa and by the time their stomachs start to want food the blaze of lust raging through their bloodstreams has lessened to a constant smolder. Andy and Sam debate dinner options before taking a risk by hailing a cab and hoping that the driver knows a good place for a private-ish meal.

The cabbie drops them off at a popular steakhouse, if the full parking lot is any indication. Despite how busy the restaurant is, they're quickly shown to a table near the back that offers the illusion of privacy and also has the added benefit of having a decent view of the entrances and exits.

By the time their drinks arrive, they're ready to order. Andy considers pretending to be the substance-less Bambi Sam first accused her of being, but she's too hungry to play games and so she orders a full steak dinner. Aside from the fact that there's no fooling him at this point - after six months, he is more than aware of her dietary preferences; she doesn't bother being too concerned with calories – she's been blessed with an excellent metabolism and the job keeps her active enough that she doesn't generally have to work too hard to keep any extra pounds off – and grins when Sam orders the same thing.

The meal is excellent – the food is perfectly cooked and full of flavor, their waiter is attentive but doesn't hover as he keeps their glasses filled, and the conversation flows easily without the time constraints of grabbing a meal while on duty, or the pressures of their assorted coworkers and friends. The tension that has always existed between them is still there, simmering under the surface, but it's all overlaid with an ease that is new for them.

It's just them - no job, no rules, no Luke, no other distractions that have always kept them from being completely comfortable with each other. It's this relaxation that lets Andy order a decadent chocolate mousse cheesecake for dessert without having to worry about giving somebody the wrong idea. A forkful of the sinful treat disappears between her lips with a moan of delight.

Sam is instantly transfixed, watching Andy enjoy her dessert with shameless abandon as her pink tongue darts out to lick the tines of the fork clean. "Sam, you gotta try this," she insists, holding her laden fork out to him. To be honest, he's not much of a chocolate fan but right now, at this moment, she could ask him to jump off a bridge and he'd ask her 'how high?'. Instead of taking the utensil from her, as she seems to expect, Sam grips her hand to bring the tasty bite closer.

Flavor explodes across his tongue as the light, fluffy mousse practically dissolves in his mouth, leaving behind a taste of raspberries and a hint of something extra that he can't identify. "That is good," he admits after he swallows. "That's really good."

Andy shares the cheesecake with him, feeding him bites in between her own murmurs and moans of chocolate rapture. Sam thinks that her obvious enjoyment should be illegal, but reconsiders when he remembers that he would never get to witness this bit of fantastic torture again. When the plate has been all but licked clean, Andy has a smudge of chocolate at the corner of her lips. He can't resist the urge to lean forward and carefully wipe it off with his thumb, barely registering her swift inhalation at the feel of soft, silken skin under his fingers.

"Wanna get out of here?" he asks huskily before sucking his thumb clean, taking in the lingering taste of chocolate and something that is purely McNally. She nods jerkily in response and Sam is gratified to see that she's as affected by him as he is by her. Once again proving how excellent his timing is, their waiter appears a few moments later with the bill and a wireless debit machine.

They're out of the restaurant and in the back of another cab in what seems to be no time at all. They behave in the back of the taxi, not wanting to give the driver or his security camera a free show, and limit themselves to intertwining their hands on Sam's leg. He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb, amused and amazed when she starts shifting restively beside him, attempting to hide the way she rubs her thighs together in response.

He has never met a woman more responsive than McNally. He smiles at her and her pupils dilate. He touches her hand and her pulse speeds up. He kisses her and she practically goes limp in his arms. It's an incredible turn-on to have physical proof of how susceptible she is to him and his charms. Still, he's not above teasing her - just to see how much she can take before she finally snaps.

And she will snap. He'll make sure of it.

The walk through the hotel lobby isn't a run through sheer willpower alone, but once they're in the elevator Andy stands directly in front of Sam and buries her face in the crook of his neck, seemingly content to just breathe him in for a few moments.

Sam brings their entwined hands to rest on the small of her back; after a second, Andy frees her hand from the slightly uncomfortable position and burrows it around his waist under his jacket. When they arrive at their floor, Andy doesn't back away and breaks into contagious giggles as Sam awkwardly walks them towards their room. She throws her head back with laughter when Sam grins and turns them so that they're waltzing down the hall.

"I didn't know you could dance," she says with a wide smile.

He sets her away from him to unlock the door, but leans in and presses a swift kiss to her temple before he inserts the keycard. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Her gaze softens as she looks at him, taking in the ever-so-slight tensing of his jaw, and regrets, not for the first time, not giving this amazing, passionate, courageous, (mostly) patient man a real chance at the beginning - back when she was still fooled by his badass bad-boy persona. "Then I guess I'll have time to learn more since I'm not going anywhere."

She is as surprised by her words as he patently is, but there's no fluttering of panic in her chest, no itch to run as far and as fast as her feet can carry her, no desperate need to be _away_ right this second. Suddenly unsure and needing some sort of reassurance after so blithely laying her cards on the table, Andy winds her arms around Sam's torso, not so much to keep herself from running but to keep him from doing the same. In response, his hand moves from the base of her spine to wrap fully around her back as he holds her closely to him and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"Really?" his voice rumbles in her ear, the low, husky tone causing a shiver to run up her spine.

At any other time, Andy would be tempted to just blurt out some sort of flippant answer - she'd done it when Luke said something that made her uncomfortable - but she's finally coming to understand that her heart isn't the only thing at stake here, that somehow, someway, Sam is emotionally invested in her, in them, and if she spooks and runs from him now she'll be responsible for breaking two hearts.

She doesn't exactly take her time answering, but Sam's muscles are slowly tensing under her hands and she knows she has to answer now, before he shuts down on her. "Yeah," she says quietly, "really."

His other arm wraps around her as a tiny shudder reverberates through his frame and Andy comes to a sudden realization that he had literally put his heart in her hands, and she can't help but close her eyes in thanks for not letting him down.

"I don't think I can say the actual words yet, Sam," she adds, ashamed of her emotional shortcomings, "but you have to know-..."

He pulls back and covers her mouth with his hand. "Andy, stop. I don't need to hear the words just yet, just so long as you don't run if I feel the need to say them." She looks directly into his eyes and watches, amazed, as he drops the walls he's spent the last six months building and lets her see the full depth of his emotions.

"Oh, Sam," she breathes, her hands coming up to cradle his face as her heart clenches. Her single-minded pursuit of Luke, particularly in the aftermath of the blackout, caused a hurt that she would do anything to take back. Andy reaches up and covers his mouth with hers, kissing him slowly and thoroughly, drinking his pain from his lips.

Behind her back there's a soft beep and then Sam is lifting her into his arms as he carries her into their suite, moving back towards the bedroom. He sets her down beside the bed and Andy instantly shoves his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms before he manages to return the favour. Her hands delve under his shirt, clutching at hot, smooth flesh as Sam places sucking kisses down the column of her throat.

"God, Sam," she moans, urging his t-shirt up though she is unwillingly stopped at his shoulders because he's busy trying to get her own jacket and shirt off and neither is particularly keen on letting go of the other. Andy drops her head to his shoulder, nipping and suckling at the skin she finds there while her hands find and tease his flat nipples.

Finally, the need to be skin to skin convinces them to separate long enough to get their shirts off and Sam just about has a stroke when he gets an eyeful of her underwear, realizing that she must have worn his absolute favorite set out of the lingerie store this afternoon. It's sheer black satin and lace, playing peek-a-boo with her nipples, that cups and supports her perfect breasts and somehow makes her skin gleam with a golden hue. "Jesus, Andy," he breathes nearly soundlessly.

"You like?" she asks with a mischievous look in her eyes, grinning hugely when he nods like a simpleton, his own gaze never leaving her encased breasts. Rendering the man of few words and perfect poker face completely stupid is something that she's never going to forget. Andy grasps one of his hands in her own and brings it up to cover her right breast, gasping when his fingers automatically bend to cup the soft flesh. His thumb passes over her nipple once, twice, three times and her knees start to sag as pleasure streaks from the tightly furled bud straight to the heat currently pooling in her centre.

Sam's arm wraps around her waist to steady her as he bends to pay homage to the bounty before him, trailing his lips around the upper edge of her bra. She whispers his name on a swift exhalation, leaning even more of her weight against him, while her arms come up to tangle in the short strands of his hair, holding him in place. One of his hands moves up to flick open the clasp of her bra with practiced ease and he draws the straps down her arms, baring her perfect, round globes to his eager gaze. "Beautiful," Sam murmurs absently, tracing the shape of her breasts with one finger while he admires their erect, strawberry-colored tips.

When Andy's knees threaten to completely collapse, he wraps his hands under her bottom, urging her legs to wrap around his waist even as he straightens and carries her to the bed. She lays back, watching avidly as Sam sheds his jeans, now wearing only his underwear. Andy shakes off the haze of desire enough to unfasten her own pants and shimmy them down over her hips as he grips the hems and pulls them off the rest of the way. He strips off her socks, placing soft kisses in the arches of her feet, thoroughly enjoying the way she squirms, before he joins her on the bed, slowly crawling up her body.

Andy firmly grips the back of his neck when he's close enough to reach and drags him up into a hot, open-mouthed kiss, while one of her hands travels down his chest, enjoying the way his muscles jump at her touch. The wiry hair covering his chest pleasurably abrades her nipples and the sensation of it causes her to arch into him to increase the pressure. Her legs wrap around his hips, yanking his pelvis into hers, and their kiss breaks off with twin groans when the hard ridge of his erection presses against her swollen centre. Sam braces his knees and thrusts into her, making a high-pitched keen escape her throat as she gasps for air.

He can feel her heat and wetness through their underwear, the musky scent of her arousal tantalizing his nose, and Sam is fairly sure that, despite his best efforts, this will be over quickly. "Andy, are you sure?" he grits out between clenched teeth.

Her eyes narrow into slits in response. "If you stop, I'll kill you," she retorts, deathly serious. Sam kisses her again, though his relieved smile proves to be contagious as they grin and chortle between smooches.

He shifts off of her just enough to strip off her underwear and swiftly shucks his own before moving back between her thighs, hissing when his cock finally comes into contact with the soaked folds of her sex. His brain cells are sizzling out of existence with speed, but he manages to retain enough sanity to remember something important: "Protection?" he gasps.

Andy's hormonal type of IUD still has another three-and-a-half years before it's due to be replaced. She's pretty sure Sam knows that she's on birth control, even if he doesn't know what kind, but she thinks his concern is sweet, if misplaced. "We're good," she replies even as she reaches down to position him at her entrance. "Now, Sam."

He's helpless to resist her and thrusts forward in a long, torturous glide of pure sensation; he's long and thick and despite the more than abundant slickness of her arousal she's tight as hell, making for a very interesting ride as her body struggles to accommodate him. Andy whimpers and shudders beneath him, her hands clutching at his back and shoulders while her knees draw up to flank his sides, allowing him to sink even deeper into her tight sheath.

He buries his face in her shoulder, needing a moment to catch his breath (not to mention scrambling for the rapidly fraying threads of his control), but eventually Andy bucks against him impatiently. "I swear to God, Sam, if you don't start moving..."

He takes her lips in a searing kiss as he pulls almost all the way out before driving back in with the force of a battering ram, completely bottoming out as she keens her approval. Andy ravages his mouth, tangling their tongues, frantic for more as she writhes beneath him.

Sam sets up a smooth, driving rhythm that soon has Andy gasping her approval as ecstasy sings through her every nerve ending. He's pretty sure she's clawing some nice furrows into his back, but considering the already darkening hickeys on her neck he figures they're about even. One of her hands burrows into his hair and gently scratches his scalp, eliciting a hiss and a hard jerk of his hips as his tempo falters for a second.

In turn, he dips a hand between them, stopping to stroke the area just above her carefully groomed curls with his thumb, gaining a hard clench of her sheath for his efforts, before continuing down to where they are joined. Sam carefully rests his finger against her clitoris and she positively explodes around him, sobbing and crying variations of his name and "OH GOD!", and her internal muscles flutter around him like crazy.

Sam never stops, pulling her left leg up until her ankle rests over his shoulder, giving him even better access and driving Andy higher and higher while her body shudders and convulses around him. The slightly different angle allows the fat head of his cock to stroke and nudge that special little spot with each thrust and she's quickly racing back up to the peak of delight. All too soon, he feels that familiar tightening at the base of his spine as his balls draw in close to his body, and he knows he's out of time.

"One more, Andy," he cajoles, mashing her clit under his fingers and the sharp pleasure-pain is enough to rocket Andy into another wildly intense climax that has her screaming her rapture to the heavens. Her sheath clenches impossibly tight, frantically milking his cock, and the sight of her completely losing it beneath him proves to be the last straw on his limited control.

He roars as he explodes deep within her belly, and the hot pulses of his release sends Andy into a third, equally powerful, orgasm. After a long moment of drawing out the ecstasy as long as possible, Sam carefully lowers her leg, which is starting to cramp, before he collapses onto her with a soft groan of satiated exhaustion.

"Best. Ever," she announces between deep gulps of air, gradually loosening her death-grip on his shoulders and back and sifting her fingers through his hair.

"Agreed," he concurs with a smile, turning his head to meet her eyes. Neither is sure who kisses who, but it's a soft meeting of lips and tongues, a confirmation of all the emotions that they can't verbally express.

Though Sam would love to stay exactly where he is for the rest of eternity, he knows he's probably getting too heavy for her so he pushes himself up and off of her, agreeing with her sound of disappointment as his rapidly softening cock slips out of its new favourite home. Andy, totally wrung out by three fabulous orgasms and lingering stress from the past few days, is quickly falling asleep while Sam rearranges their bodies so he's spooning her from behind, wrapping himself tightly around her.

"Hey, Sam?" He makes a sort of questioning noise, nuzzling the side of her neck with his nose and lips. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

He isn't quite sure what to say in response so he blows gently on her ear until her face turns towards him and then captures her mouth in a kiss that sizzles. It's broken when she has to yawn and Sam can't help but chuckle into her mouth before pulling away. "Get some sleep, Andy," he instructs, brushing her nose with his in an "Eskimo kiss".

She yawns again and twists back to settle herself more comfortably against him, dropping a hand to the one wrapped around her waist and entwining their fingers as she starts to drift off.

Her breathing deepens into the regular rhythm of sleep and he's not far behind, quickly slipping into the arms of Morpheus.

Sam wakes with the dawn, and discovers that though his arms are empty, Andy hasn't gone far. Just out of arm's reach, she's curled on her side, facing away from him, though he doesn't get the impression that she was trying to get away.

He can't help the stupidly happy grin that wreathes his features as he considers her slender form. Finally, the woman who has been invading his dreams for the past six months is all his – and the only she'll get away from him now is if she kills him.

With that in mind, he sidles close enough to touch her and carefully strokes the back of his hand down the silken skin of her side. She is perfection given form, he thinks, admiring the taut globes of her perfect ass as he drags the caress down over the curve of her hip. He freezes when she stirs, murmuring something unintelligible as she shifts restlessly, and is hit with a fantastically evil idea when she eventually settles down.

Knowing that she's a fairly sound sleeper, Sam sets about gently urging her to roll onto her front, elevating her hips slightly with the use of a strategically placed pillow. Sheltered between her thighs lay the gates to paradise and he lightly dips his fingers between her folds, not wanting to startle her to wakefulness or cause any hurt if she is tender.

He very gently brushes the tip of his finger against her clitoris, applying the barest amount of pressure there, and her legs practically leap apart. With a sly grin, Sam spreads them wider until her knees are almost parallel with her hips and keeps playing. When she's slick and swollen with renewed heat, shifting and moaning restlessly though still asleep, he settles between her thighs and brings his newly rampant erection to her entrance.

He wiggles it around a bit to pick up some moisture, notches it in her opening, and then thrusts home, hard and fast. Andy awakens with a gasp and a moan as Sam plunders her body. Arching against him as he waits for her body to adjust to him, she reaches one arm back and tangles her fingers in his hair while the other fists the sheets.

Sam kisses her neck, his tongue tracing gentle designs on her skin, and teasingly bites her earlobe. "Good morning." His voice rumbles from deep within his chest and the vibrations against her back make her shiver with delight as she clamps down hard on this large invader.

As soon as her grip lets up, he pulls almost the entire way out, and then slams back in hard enough to make the bed rock. She squeaks and latches on to the headboard, trying to get her knees under her for some leverage, but the way his lower stomach is wedged against her bottom, holding her down with his size and weight, makes that impossible. She is trapped, held captive while he has his way with her.

Unable to think, let alone put words together to form phrases, she lets her body do the talking for her as she pants, gasps, moans, and clenches around him. Unutterably smug that he's put the chatterbox beyond words, Sam anchors his feet and thrusts hard, slightly changing the angle of penetration. There is a special spot that he's aiming for, and Sam knows he's found it when Andy suddenly goes stiff as a board as her back bows, a low, guttural groan escaping her lips, eyes shut against the pleasure. The sound goes in his ears and heads straight south, and they both moan when his cock swells to an even larger girth within her.

Andy can't keep herself from chanting his name, but God only knows whether she means it as encouragement to keep doing that or is begging him to get it over with. Maybe both. God, she'll never get used to how big he is... He thrust hard again, the underside of his cock stroking that special spot again…

Just as suddenly as it started for her, it's all over. She thrashes, pants, wails, and bucks through the massive orgasm, shrieking her satisfaction, simply trying to ride it out before all the sheer ecstasy fries the circuits in her brain.

Every muscle in Andy's body clenches, and Sam tries to hold back as her hot sheath clamps down and ripples around him, but he's helpless to resist the strong milking sensations and explodes, his pelvis pressed as closely to hers as he can get. When he is completely drained, he collapses on top of her and lays there for several minutes, gasping for enough air to reboot his brain. Eventually, he slips out of her and rolls off to lie on his side facing her, once more pulling her in tightly to him.

Andy is still breathing heavily, trying desperately to recover from that last sheet-scorcher of an orgasm. Who would have thought that being so helpless would be such a turn-on? Not that she wants it like that all the time, but the remembered feeling of being surrounded by him sends a shiver down her spine. Her whole body tingles and pulses with the aftermath of a truly spectacular orgasm and, despite how exhausted she is again, she can't help wondering if he'll be up for another round in the shower.

She turns her head to look at him, eyes sparkling as she sleepily nuzzles the pillow under her cheek. "Good morning."

Sam smiles at her and leans forward to kiss her lingeringly. "How's that for a wake-up call?" he asks teasingly against her lips.

Andy reaches up to tangle her fingers in the soft strands of his hair. "I'll take that over an alarm clock any day," she replies with a matching smile. It's absolutely insane how completely and totally _happy_ she is right now. Even before the night of the blackout while she was seeing Luke she never even came close to the level of contentment that just lying in bed next to Sam, exchanging soft, slow kisses, brings.

This is uncharted territory for Andy, and she's utterly terrified of screwing it up, but this is _Sam_. Even if she does feel the urge to run, he won't let her.

But the crazy thing is she doesn't want to run. Can't even fathom being more than arm's length apart from him now that they've finally, _finally_, come to an understanding of each other.

"What are you thinking there, McNally?" Sam asks, cupping her cheek in his warm palm.

"How lucky I am to have you in my life. How grateful I am that you forgave me for burning you. How much I-... How much I-..." Her next words stick in her throat.

He shushes her and kisses her sweetly when he sees her struggling. "It's okay, Andy," he whispers, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb, eyes bright and warm and filled with all the emotions she can't put a voice to, even though she knows she feels the same. "It's okay."

His unending patience with her and her emotional baggage brings tears to her eyes. "No, Sam, it's not okay to let you spend another minute not knowing just how much I _love_ you-...!" Her declaration is interrupted when he seals his mouth over hers, unable to wait another second.

Sam makes love to her mouth, ravishing her completely, and she's dazed and hazy with desire when he eventually ends it. "I love you," he whispers vehemently. "God, Andy, I love you so much."

Andy is crying and laughing at the same time as she drags him back over her, letting his body settle in the cradle of her hips. She never imagined just how much weight would lift off her shoulders when she finally let herself utter those three little, all-powerful words to another person.

For the first time, she feels something other than regret for all the time wasted - because it wasn't really wasted, was it? They've gotten to know each other as colleagues, partners, and friends, each type of relationship more intimate than that of lovers in a lot of ways.

This time, when he joins with her, their lovemaking is gentle and slow, but earth-shaking all the same; it's not a wild charge to the finish line, but rather a leisurely stroll in the park as they savour each new sensation, every nuance. Their climaxes are slow in coming, almost a surprise as the wave of their pleasure crests over them, and they gradually drift back to awareness with the same quietly thrilled mood they started in.

Sam rolls over onto his back, taking Andy with him until she's sprawled bonelessly over his chest, quietly dozing as he traces shapes and patterns into her back with his fingertips. The next words escape before he has a chance to censor them and he tries not to brace himself for the chase when she spooks and bolts. "Marry me, Andy."

The next minute is the longest of his life and it goes by interminably slowly and he can't keep from growing tenser with each second that passes.

Until she stirs, rubbing her cheek against his chest like a kitten, and settles back down, breathing the answer that will change everything:

"Okay."

* * *

><p>"<em>...I found a woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I'm going to hold on to her forever."<br>_- Charlie Croaker, _The Italian Job_

**Fine**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** That's all folks. Thanks for sticking with me!


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